Unknown
by sweetprincipale
Summary: The 3rd part in the trilogy that began with Uncontrollable and Unmentionable. Please read those first. In Unknown, Buffy and Spike's relationship is no longer a secret from most, but there are many things which remain hidden. A story of love and friendship continuing to survive in the face of secrets, challenges, and unknown dangers. Nominee: R. 28 at Sunnydale Memorial Awards!
1. Prologue

**Unknown**

**By Sweetprincipale**

_This is set in my non-canon, but canon-esque series following Uncontrollable and Unmentionable. If you haven't read those first, please do, or this won't read nearly as well or make much sense. Unknown begins a few weeks after the end of Unmentionable, around the beginning of season five._

_Author's Note: Thank you to all the lovely readers who encouraged me in creating this trilogy. I cannot express how grateful I am to have such wonderful reviewers and dedicated readers._

_Author's Second Note: Organization of this sequel is going to be a little different than the previous two parts of this trilogy._

_Dedicated to: __ginar369, Alexiarrose, Sirius 120, DLilith21, Inazea, Constance Truggle, micmoc, Illusera,_ _omslagspapper, MMwillow13, kasloumor, Medusamylove, suchagleekx, cavemenftw, Starscape91, lil-leti, MaireAilbhe, McPastey, sbyamibakura, rosalea12, sanityfair1, Eru no Tsubasa, Alottalove, gilesc3, Edward Cullen brings sexy back, MoonandStars91, JeMS7, Sleeplings, Lynbie, Nosside, and Babe Ruthless._

_Disclaimer: Nothing of Buffy belongs to me, except my sincere admiration. However, this story is all mine._

**Prologue**

"Drop by tonight?"

"Yep. Want me to bring anything?"

"We're out of bubble bath."

"That is the weirdest thing ever to hear a_ vampire_ say." Buffy kissed Spike's cool cheek lightly as she slid from his car.

"I dunno about that." Spike held up a pair of lavender panties and looked at her. "How about this phrase, 'Slayer, can I keep this pair? I'm building a trophy rack over the bed.' How 'bout that? More or less weird?"

"That's not weird, that's jerky, and no, you can't." Buffy leaned in and snatched the underwear back with a triumphant grin at his surprised face. "Ha ha ha, vamps are too slow, Slayer's got the moves." She stuck out her tongue and gyrated saucily in victory.

She was startled when she found herself grabbed back, his arm around her waist. She was pulled in through the door as she gasped out, "Hey!".

"You got the undies, but I got the grand prize." Spike smirked evilly and bent his forehead to rest on hers as she struggled in annoyance, landing across his lap. "_Now _who's got the moves, Baby?"

"Spike... don't. We can't. The sun is going to be up soon." Buffy murmured regretfully as his lips descended on hers.

"Then ride home with me." Spike pleaded while he nibbled around her mouth, heading down to her throat. "Your mum won't miss you. She'll be busy at the gallery."

"I'm supposed to train today. Giles-"

"Will be busy with your mum." He kissed her more insistently.

"Oh man. Not an okay thought."

Spike gave her a critical look and she hastened to clarify. "Not the dating part, the - the 'busy with' part." She grimaced.

"Their busy and _our_ busy look nothin' alike, Luv." Spike lied easily. _Maybe not hot an' wild, but "busy" as in cravin' each other's company? Hell yes._

"You're lying."

Dammit. She was getting far too good at seeing through him. "All the more distracted then." He gave her a feral grin.

"You drive me insane. Why do we do this?" Buffy huffed, fingers tangling in his hair as she closed her eyes, complaining about him yet pulling him closer.

"Because you love me an' I love you."

She lost herself in thoughts, and in his hands and skin and mouth, all working with her own.

_I do love him. He's an annoying jerk, but he's _my_ annoying jerk. My stupid, evil, annoying jerk. With a black, dead heart, so full of love if you just let him love you and love him back. That plotting deceptive mind so full of comforting words and unpleasant truths you still need to hear if you don't want to live a lie. He's that rule breaker, and the exception to the rule, where right and wrong don't matter anymore and everything's okay because it's love. Love is just love, there's no right or wrong, no good or bad. _

"I _do_ love you. I don't want you to go, Spike, I just- I just can't tell Mom yet. Or ever. If you come in at this hour, I'll have to, and I'm not ready to risk the sneaking in and out thing again, she's just getting used to having me in the house again. But I wish, more than anything, you could just walk me upstairs and stay with me all day."

He was surprised at how the sudden heartfelt rush of words poured out. "Easy, Heart, she doesn't have to know. For along time, even forever, if that's what you need us to do. Long as _you_ love me, bugger the rest."

"But everyone else knows. They know about you and me, and they know I want you with me. And I don't just mean at night and with the guys. You know what I mean." _I mean no one leaves. We promised. No leaving. And if no one ever leaves, then we're always together. And if we're always together- oh God. Seriousness. _

_ I do know what she means. Same thing I mean. That we're in this together, no matter what, and there's a damn sight too much "what" around for either of us. So much we don't know, can't explain. But as long as we're muddling through together, as long as no one leaves... _"I'll always be with you. I'm the key an' you're the lock, Luv." Spike soothed, using the imagery from their shared dreamscape.

"Don't say that. It freaks me out." Buffy confessed anxiously, holding him closer. _Locks, keys, what's that about? Why did they tell him to hide what's inside? Why'd they give him a soul?_ Her hands wandered down suddenly as she rolled, forcefully unzipping him, scooping him from his jeans, moving across the seat to make room for him. _What if I lose him? What if it's a secret because if they find out- something bad happens, takes him away from me. I need him. I need him in me, together, have to feel like I'm not going to lose him..._

He gasped. She'd just been putting him off, hadn't she? Bloody changeable tease. Minx. Golden angel of beauty... Spike's opinions changed from confused and irritated to grateful and loving as he looked at her, laying back, legs spread, breathing shallow, eyes glinting in the dark. Like a wildcat trapped in some youthful goddess's body. She was perfect for him, perfect for the sweet poet trapped in a devil incarnation.

He surged in and she arched up, skirt splitting its already knee high splits further. She didn't even comment, just clutched him convulsively. That worried him a bit. Slayer was hot and feisty, but she did try to save her wardrobe from his loving destruction when possible. "You alright, Pet?"

"Yes, yes just- deeper, make me feel something." Buffy gasped in his ear, biting the lobe with sudden ferocity.

"You can't feel this?" Spike hammered hard to her once and her wet heat sluiced out in a single wave. Now the slight concern was a wall of worry. "You always- you say I'm the only one who ever-"

"You are, you do, and you are the only one for me. I can't lose you. I don't care if they find out we're together, but what if they find out what's missing, or what's inside?" Her hands cupped his cheeks, thumbs on the sharp planes framing his eyes. "I don't know what's supposed to happen next, Spike. And it scares me."

They'd had this discussion so often in the last few weeks, drawing a little more out each time. The chip was gone. A soul was in place. A new soul, the monks in the dream said it was a new soul, for a new man. Love had made him pure again, worthy to hide-something- in. He didn't know what it was, nor who it was hidden from. "Scares me, too." He whispered, blue eyes locked on the glistening orbs in front of him.

All the mystical things worried him, and he worried too about all the strange bits and bobs from the others' dreams, all interwoven, half recalled, but not clear. Too many things no one was saying, too many private revelations the others didn't want known. He and Buffy had their secrets as well, but all the same he couldn't help feeling he was trying to put together a puzzle blindfolded. Someone had given him all the pieces, but wouldn't let him see how they fit together. Except one big, crucial piece.

"But I know one thing, Buffy, Slayer." He ground into her, burying his head on her neck, inhaling her, gathering strength to make her forget every fear and just focus on the feeling of being loved. "I know you an' I are together, no matter what they throw at us. Don't be afraid."

"Don't lie to me. Don't shield me." She hissed, grateful for the comfort though she was. She just couldn't stand to be treated as an unequal partner, too many had done that in the past.

"I'm not shielding you. You shield me. I defend you. We are one hell of a force to be reckoned with. An' we're in love. I may know sod all about what our dreams mean or what we're supposed to do with the info we've got- but I know love. Love like ours- you can't fight it. We're the best fighters in the world, an' we couldn't keep from fallin'. Now if we can learn to love each other, learn to live an' die for each other, an' still end up shaggin' in my car in front of your house-"

"We're gonna get caught?" Buffy interrupted his battlefield speech with a hoarse gasping laugh as she crested under him, spine arching, walls clenching.

"No." Spike nipped her neck sharply and winked. "It means we're gonna do okay, no matter what they throw at us. We've bested the best, so bring on the rest."

Buffy put her head back and sighed. _He's a cocky, overconfident demon who's not afraid of anything- but losing me. And that won't happen. Wow. He's right. Dammit, I hate that he's always right! But he is right. If that's all we have to be afraid of, I guess we really don't need to be afraid. _

"C'mon Slayer. Admit it. I'm right." Spike purred as her hands latched onto his neck, one hand stroking the back of his sleeked hair, the other hand caressingly putting pressure on his bite, his "b-spot" if you wanted to give it a name that aptly described what it did to him.

"I hate admitting you're right." She sighed and dug her nail in to the yielding scar, watching his eyes flutter shut as his head flew back in pleasure. "But you are. I have no idea who's playing games with our minds, and goofing around with souls and chips and locks and keys- but they don't know who they're messing with."

_To be continued..._


	2. Part I

Unknown

By Sweetprincipale

_This is set in my non-canon, but canon-esque series following Uncontrollable and Unmentionable. If you haven't read those first, please do, or this won't read nearly as well or make much sense. Unknown begins a few weeks after the end of Unmentionable, around the beginning of season five._

_Author's Note: Thank you to all the lovely readers who encouraged me in creating this trilogy. I cannot express how grateful I am to have such wonderful reviewers and dedicated readers._

_Author's Second Note: This chapter begins immediately at the end of the prologue, and since it's been awhile and the prologue is short, I advise re-reading the prologue to make this flow. (Just an author-y suggestion!) This is another short chapter, a bit of a stage setting/ reintroduction chapter. Thanks for patiently (or impatiently) waiting while I finished writing _You an' Me Against the World_ and _Living Conditions_._

_Dedicated to: ginar369, Alexiarrose, Sirius 120, DLilith21, micmoc, Illusera,_ _omslagspapper, Teddybear-514, Kerry220, BabyFaith18, MMwillow13, cavemenftw, lil-leti, MaireAilbhe, McPastey, Edward Cullen brings sexy back, Illusera, The Three March Hares, rosalea12, sanityfair1, Alottalove, gilesc3, Silverwings2008, ShyL, Mike13z50, HaleKent, and Babe Ruthless._

_Direct Quotes are obviously not mine, but belong to the fabulously talented and creative people who wrote them. In this case, some of season five's dialogue will be used. _

_**Disclaimer: Nothing of Buffy belongs to me, except my sincere admiration. However, this story is all mine.**_

Part I

"I'll call you tonight?" Joyce smiled and stepped onto the back porch, hand digging in her purse for her keys.

"Absolutely." Giles leaned on the backdoor frame and lightly kissed his new sweetheart, a sweetheart of only a few weeks, a somewhat chaste goodbye.

"Will you see Buffy today?" Joyce asked with a faint blush, pulling her head from his.

"Ah. Yes, shortly in fact." Ever since the appearance of Sineya, they'd had a renewed need for research and training, not just him and Buffy, no. The entire "gang" had a deeper sense of togetherness, a greater commitment to the good fight. There was much that hadn't been shared, but even the parts that had been shared were enough to send them into "research mode" as Willow would say, and "Slayer Schoolin'" as Buffy would call their physical training. "Oh, I _do_ need some sleep." Realizing just how draining a workout with Buffy could be, Giles ran his hand over his scruffy face. "And a shave."

Joyce looked a little apprehensive. "I hadn't planned to let her know I was out so late."

"Perfectly innocently." Giles quickly reminded her.

"I know!" She agreed- a little too emphatically.

They shared a smile, a sneaky one. So, not _perfectly_ innocent, but not quite into the "adult category". Old movie marathon on PBS, good wine, good meal, good kisses. Very good kisses.

"But you'd like me not to tell her?"

"Well- ooh-" Joyce bit her lip and hustled backwards into the kitchen with a tense, apologetic look on her face. "I don't want you to lie. I just don't want her to know exactly how late we got back." She looked at the clock. "Or early."

He laughed. "Yes... not terribly important, the lateness or earliness of the hour." _In the big scheme of things, that doesn't matter at all. _ "Go get some sleep, Joyce." He pecked her lips again. "As I had better do as well. She can be quite energetic, your daughter." _Our daughter._

"I know. I used to have her working off all that energy at cheerleading. I remember." Joyce smiled wistfully. But she traded LA and good schools for Sunnydale and Evil High. _ She traded pompoms for stakes and the undead. Of course, if she hadn't- then I wouldn't have met Giles. But how selfish is that of me? I'd trade anything to get her back to my sweet, carefree baby girl. But since it can't happen, I suppose I should be grateful that Rupert came with the bargain._

"She-she did try to make the squad in high school." Giles reminded Joyce, polishing his glasses.

"She did? Oh, that's right." Joyce vaguely, and guiltily recalled. She hadn't shown much interest. She hadn't realized what her daughter was involved in, either in school, or after school, she'd been so involved in restarting her life, a home, a business... "She didn't stick to it, did she?" _Maybe if I'd been more involved, maybe if she'd have let me in..._

"I'm afraid there was a slight problem with it, yes. The girls on the squad were being attacked by a soul-transferring witch obsessed with her-" Joyce's eyes threatened to pop free. " Something evil happened." Giles summed up shortly.

"Doesn't it always." Joyce sighed. Well, that alleviated some guilt. She really didn't want Buffy on an evil cheerleading squad, did she? Her head gave a small throb. Too much stress surfacing belatedly.

"I'm sorry, Dear. It will get better." _It'll get worse first, but then, it will be better. For a very long time after that, it will be beautiful._

"I know." Joyce smiled bravely. "You'd better go. I'll speak to you soon."

He stepped backwards out the door, lingeringly releasing her hand.

"One for the road." The Ripper side popped its subconscious out and kept his hand on hers.

* * *

"I'll be over soon as I can." Buffy kissed her lover again. _That's the last one. After the last five "last ones"..._

"Uh-huh. Train hard." He kissed her back. "Gotta keep me fightin' trim, you're the only goody goody I get to battle now." He winked and grabbed for her again.

"I will. And you will." She sighed as his lips did their witchcraft once more.

_This was becoming ridiculous. S'posed that's what happens when you love someone. Heart and soul. Literally. _ "Be dreaming of you."

"Mmm, me too. But awake-ly." She scooted out of the car, slowly, haltingly, still swapping the little kisses that always threatened to erupt into more.

"Think they call that a daydream, Luv." He kept his wrists around her forearms, flirting with the sun.

"I have to go. Mom'll be up soon..."

He released her hands with one last squeeze. "Bye, Buffy."

* * *

He released the edge of the door. "She'll be down soon." Joyce tore herself away unwillingly.

"I know. Yes, have a- a pleasant day." How could he alternate between so boorish and so bookish? It was a marvel. One he could do without, honestly.

"I will." She grinned girlishly. "Lots of good thoughts to keep me smiling." Then she rubbed her head suddenly, smile faltering.

He felt his heart falter as well. "Headache?" He asked casually as he could manage.

"Up too late." She smiled again, and pecked his cheek, letting him get out the door. "I'll be fine, just going to go grab a nap and some aspirin."

"Of course. Me too. The uh- nap."Giles waved and slipped off the porch, across the back lawn to where his car was parked on the side street.

As soon as he was gone, his head drooped heavily, not with tiredness, with stress and pain and the difficult part of untold knowledge. _So this is how it starts. _

Images ran through his head. _They showed me the outcome. They didn't show me how to help. How it is fixed. What happens on the way. _

_ They couldn't possibly show me how much it would hurt. _

_ It happened to me once. _Jenny's face, shadowy and yet so clear to him, swept past his downcast eyes_. It won't happen again._

* * *

Buffy sped up the stairs, silently, shoes in hand, darting past her mother's room. _I should let her know. She's going to find out soon._

She tiptoed into the bathroom. _Or she might find out right now. _

Joyce confronted Buffy in the doorway, blouse half untucked, earrings in one palm, aspirin bottle in the other.

Both women exchanged a glance, startled, guilty, almost accusatory.

_Why is she carrying her shoes?_

_ Why is she taking off her earrings, not putting them on?_

_ Has she been out all night?_

_ Is she just getting in?_

_ Slaying?_

_ Giles? _

_ Not the same outfit. _

_ Totally the same outfit._

"Hi." Buffy waved.

"Good morning, Sweetie." Joyce kissed her cheek hurriedly and passed from the room.

_Faint whiff of smoke. Cigarettes. Spike._

_ Giles' "cologne"- a combo of tea, something alcoholic and expensive, wood, and old books._

"Eggs?" Joyce asked, sliding regretfully past her bedroom and back down the stairs she'd just walked up.

"Thanks, Mom." Buffy shrugged at her bed, tossed her shoes on the floor of her room and silently congratulated herself for stashing multiple outfits in Spike's- wow- she guessed it was now "their" bedroom.

The two women entered the kitchen silently, not quite meeting each other's eyes.

_That didn't just happen._

_ I know nothing._

* * *

"Watch where you're goin'!" Spike turned the corner, not entirely focused. The car smelled of passion, his senses were high and full of aches and cravings. The sun was out, making his blacked out windshield needful but definitely not the best for visibility. That stop sign had no business being there- but even if it had, the other bloke was the one who'd run it.

"Pillock!" Giles winced and focused on his brand new indulgence, his "I'm getting a second chance at life- and my old car is about to die" purchase, a beautiful, sleek red convertible. "It's a four way! Bloody Americans!"

He glared at the car coming past him as he turned.

Black, painted out De Soto. Leaving Buffy's house at dawn. _Ah well. _Not as though he didn't know about the two of them. Giles allowed himself a nearly imperceptible smile.

Spike stared, even risked cracking the window to peer over the top edge.

Same man. Different car. Watcher'd been out very late, or leaving very early. From the back of Buffy's house. _Well, well, well. _Spike smirked slightly.

Then mutually uncomfortable thoughts assailed them, and they took deliberately closer looks at the vehicles now passing each other.

_Joyce doesn't want her to be alone, but I'm not sure she'll welcome this level of togetherness..._

_ Buffy's gonna flip if she finds he was there all night, they've barely had any dates..._

In perfect mental chorus, eyes widened and the uncomfortable thoughts became winces.

"What if she asks me about this?" Cars screeched away in opposite directions.

Identities confirmed- they resolutely ignored each other.

_Less I know about that, happier I'll be._

* * *

"What do you mean, you don't know?" The beautiful woman had something so hard and so dangerous in the depths of her eyes, that she wasn't really beautiful. More like terrifying. One of the creatures meant to be feared and worshipped, not admired. "This is your job!" She picked up one of her priests by his silken collar.

"B-but- I don't, your Beauteousness." He protested. "It has been removed!"

"It's an eternal energy source, you can't remove it! You can't even destroy it!" She tossed him back against the wall with a tiny flick of her wrist and huffed. "If you could just destroy it, those annoying monk people would have done it years ago."

"Your most Lovely and Generous One, perhaps they have simply put it someplace else. You have many devoted servants, they will find it!"

"We don't have that much time to find it! It's taken more than twenty years of doing the right rituals to even bring me into this- disgusting- human skin bag!" The woman surveyed herself, beautiful as she was, with utter mortification. Sparks flew from her eyes as her gaze traveled down to her fingers. "And I chipped a nail when I threw you!" She screamed at the hapless priest.

"I apologize, oh Sainted and Perfect One!"

"Eurrrr! I need it! I need it, I need the damn Key to open the damn Door! So I can go home and so I can get out of this body!" She screeched.

"We will find it, we have months left until the Door will even be in this realm." One of her many faithful minions soothed.

"Don't talk to me like I'm some whiny human!" The enraged woman threw a high heel at the brown robed figure.

"Of course not. Maybe if you just ate someone?" He placated.

"Maybe." She sulked and flopped into a plus chair, arms and legs crossed, pouting into the distance for several minutes before speaking again. "Priest guy." She finally deigned to speak.

"Yes, my Goddess?"

"The Key is power. Energy. Pure energy. It doesn't even exist in one realm, it exists kind of- floaty free so anyone with a big enough power-" she smirked in self-conceit, "can grab it." She made a fist, snatching a handful of air. "So how can anyone, let alone one old order of monks- or maybe even that pesky bunch of knights- 'remove it'?"

The priest considered his words very carefully. "There are tools, my Holy Queen, and rituals, that can bind energy into a solid form."

"Any form?"

"No. No, solid is not quite the right word." He backed up a few steps, cowering slightly. "An ethereal mass. Yes, something movable, but not- tangible."

She gave him a long, flaying look. "How many priests does it take to do the final ritual?"

"Three." He answered nervously.

"And how many priests are here?"

"Three."

"How long do you have to train to become a priest?"

"Two hundred years."

"Alright, keep talking." She grudgingly waved him on, crossing her arms with a baleful glare.

"Thank you, most Benevolent One." The priest said with relief. "The Key could have been turned into something else possessing a massive, intangible energy. Or at least something with a significant amount of intangible energy so that using it as disguise for the Key would not seem out of place."

"Such as?"

"Oh, a spirit being, a temporal rift, a-"

"A demon? Anything willing to play ball?" She sat up eagerly.

"Oh no, it must be pure. Wherever it is it must be kept pure. And it must be newly made, for only a few months ago, we were told it was in this place." The priest gestured to the city they could see out the magnificent windows, a bustling city of Florentine architecture, churches, monasteries, and fountains.

"I didn't know monks could leave their nest. I thought they were tied to it." She flicked her now imperfect nails impatiently.

"They must have had a great need to be elsewhere, or they wouldn't have left. We can remain here, waiting for them longer." They'd been tracking the world for the right people with the right information, which led to the monks of this particular monastery. Months ago they'd gotten the lead, but several weeks had passed and they'd found no evidence to point them in a new direction, or where to find the missing holy men.

"I don't have time to wait! Haven't you been paying attention?" Her other heel passed his head and imbedded in the frescoed wall of their temporary domicile. "Find them! Find them- you guys!" She gestured wildly to a handful of her servants. "Start looking, now. No, not like we have been. Use oracles! Use spells! Beat up people! Find my Key and find the damn monks who moved it!"

"Spells will not help you locate the Key, though they may help you find the monks." The nervous priest dared to mention.

"Why not?"

He found himself suddenly held aloft, one hand under his chin, silk robes bunched angrily around his windpipe. "Because it has been transformed. It could be a spirit, a soul, an oracle. It could be hidden in any pure form! It will- have- a name." He croaked out.

He was dropped.

She looked down in utter horror. "You can't name the Key. it- it doesn't even _have _a name._ I_ only have a name because people fear and worship me and finally found something to call me. Isn't that right, boys?" She smiled suddenly at the group behind her.

"Yes, Powerful and Beautiful Glorificus!" They chorused in obedient worshipfulness

"Oh, just call me Glory for today." She waved absently at them, and returned to pacing barefoot across her thick carpeting. "They named it? They gave it a name?"

"They have given it form. The form will have a name. But the Key is still the Key. A spell will not work. You cannot ask to find the unnamed and be led to that which is named."

Glory sat down yet again, this time less huffy and more distraught. "How could a bunch of sweaty little human Heaven-lovers do this? Wouldn't we have felt that much magic happening?"

"They must have crossed into another realm to perform the transfiguration." The priest advised.

"That still takes a butt load of mojo." She scowled in puzzlement. "We'd have found it. That is-" she hollered over her shoulder, voice ringing through the house so that every minion, priest, and servant could hear her, "if the people worshipping me are actually _doing their jobs_!"

A scurry of redoubled effort launched through the house, from seamstresses to scribes. The atmosphere fairly tingled with it.

"We are. Everyone serves you most faithfully, Feared and Beloved One." Her most devoted servant, Jinx approached her and gave her a deep bow.

Glory patted his head and sighed. "So why didn't we feel this huge magic happening? We have people looking for hotspots, don't we? Even if they were in some other 'realm', they're only humans. Physical forms stay here, and don't I know it." She jabbed her flat stomach in annoyance. "Stubborn human bodies don't shift, they just burn, only consciousness and spirits and souls- that's what moves out of this plane and into the other dimensions. Unless you have a _KEY _to open the damn_ DOOR_! ." She muttered angrily. Everyone was silent, watching warily. "Well? Am I right?"

A chorus of eager agreement broke out, but it didn't please their unbalanced sovereign. "Don't just nod your scabby little heads! Explain this to me!"

"Th-they must have performed it where their physical beings would go unnoticed!" Jinx cried, placating. "A place where great magical energy already exists in this realm. Sacred places, places of great good and white magic." He winced. "Places we avoid..."

She grinned and stood before her people like the great destroyer she had been, and would be again. "We won't avoid them anymore! Jinxy, get me a list of all the hottest hotspots on this waste of space! Priest-man, you start feeling out portents or whatever you do to help us narrow it down. Everyone else, pack! We're leaving town and hunting down my Key and the nasty little people who hid it. Now, Minions! Chop, chop, time's wasting!" She clapped her hands and they fled.

She collapsed on the sofa, weakened, but unwilling to admit it. She really did need to eat someone. Just their brain's power, to be exact. Whenever her true form got to weak- _Oh shit_.

With a gut-wrenching cry, the female form doubled, twisted and changed. A masculine face appeared, complete with male physique.

He gasped, panted in pain and sat up. Not another mini dress. Why did his sister do this to him. "JINX!"

Footsteps hurried down the hall. "Oh, Master Ben. You're up." Jinx said kindly, for it didn't do to disrespect the vessel of his mistress' form.

"Yes, I'm up. Where are my clothes, where are we, and did I at least show up to my new job?" He demanded, stripping the dress over his head.

"Ah. Your clothes are being packed. We're about to leave, so it doesn't matter where we are right now, and no. I'm afraid you didn't."

Ben seethed. "What is she doing this time? Why aren't you telling me anything!?"

Jinx moved quietly around him, picking up the dress, the shoes, anything of Glorificus' with due reverence. "I am telling you everything. You know exactly what your sister is doing." He smiled his gentle, leprous smile. "You've always known what she was doing, and you know exactly what these next few months will be like as she nears her true 'coronation'. You may not know the details, Mater Ben, but you know her plan. You simply don't _like_ it."

* * *

"I don't like the looks of this." Xander sat on his beach chair with a grave expression on his face.

"Did you use lighter fluid?" Tara asked helpfully, peering at the sputtering grill.

"No, not the grill. Okay, yes the grill- but I meant_ that._" He pointed with his chin to the water's edge.

"I've got it! I've got it! No wait, I mean 'I'm open'!" Anya ran backwards across the sand, arms wide.

"You don't have to say that when just two people are playing." Buffy laughed and hurled the football.

"Ow! Human throwing speeds, please!" Anya cried as she crashed back into the sand.

"Anya's going to get herself severely exhausted." Willow said to Xander. She stifled a yawn. "I don't think normal people types are supposed to play sports with superpeople types."

"Foul!" Anya whined. "You knocked me into the ocean."

"Oh, put on your big girl face and throw it back." Buffy laughed and pulled Anya up.

"No. No, this was a bad plan. I'm going to go back and sit on my beach chair- and put cold cans of soda on my ribs. Besides- I'm getting sweaty."

"And sweatiness can lead to the heartbreak and pain of stinkiness." Tara handed Anya a towel as she sat beside her.

"This would be why we're the sidekicks." Willow looked up from her novel with a fond smile at her girlfriend, who smiled back.

"Does this mean I win?" Buffy called happily.

"Wasn't a fair game!" Anya protested.

Buffy trotted over. "It's never a fair game. I don't have anyone to play with." She stood with her hands on her hips. "Ooh. We could play frisbee!"

"And be decapitated? No!" Anya cried.

Buffy sighed and looked at the sun sinking behind the cliffs nearest their semi-secluded spot. She called loudly, "Well if _someone_ would just stop being afraid of a little sunset..."

"Wait a few more minutes, Slayer." A softer, yet severely piqued voice replied from the direction of the rocks.

"There's no rush on my part." Xander grumped.

"Be nice!" Anya hissed.

There was a moment of awed silence for this role reversal.

"Oh, hey not because of Sun Challenged." _You have no idea how glad I am he's around._ "Because these burgers are still raw. Bloody, pink, Neanderthal raw."

A black and off- white figure darted out, wincing a little and keeping a nervous eye on the sky as it changed from bright hazy orange to faded gold with darkness creeping up it. "I'll take two, no ketchup. Do we have pickles?" Spike asked cheerfully.

"Ewwww." Buffy, Willow, and Tara said as one.

"What?" Spike asked defensively. He turned pointedly to Buffy. "You asked me to come, and I came. I eat what I want, within reason. So no 'eww' ing at me when I want some voluntary red meat instead of nippin' a person-"

"Nipping? I - I thought you were 'nip' free." Tara looked at Spike anxiously, something tugging at her, something she'd seen. Maybe. Or knew? Part of the dream?

"I am. Nip free." Spike said easily, not giving into the urge to dart a glance at Buffy. _Nip free, yes, fang disabled, no. Not anymore, but they don't need to know that, now do they? _"Just makin' my point."

Buffy groaned and looked to Willow. "Pass me two buns. As for the rest of us- Xander?"

"Don't look at me. It's comforting to know I lack the culinary skills of a caveman, huh?" He quipped self-deprecatingly.

"Oh, I got this." Willow stopped in mid bun-pass. "Ignis Incende!" She waved her hand with a bright smile.

The feeble cinders in the grill roared into life with a burst of flame. Spike yelped and Xander fell off his chair into the sand, spatula saluting the sky as he gasped.

Buffy looked over the rims of her sunglasses with a "you go girl" beam. "Willow, Check you out! Witch-fu!"

Willow beamed at Tara. "Well, I do have a really good coach. See how I could draw from one element without killing all the others? Unlike last time? With the- wind and the sinkhole?" She blushed.

"That's bloody impressive." Spike came over to retrieve the spatula and now two extremely well done burgers. "Air and Earth are hard, but Water and Fire- very tricky. Temperamental. Aren't we, Luv?" He looked at his fiery other half.

A huge clap of thunder erupted over the beach, seemingly from nowhere. A cascade of rain broke out of a rapidly forming black cloud.

With squeals, everyone cleared the area, books and coolers and towels clutched to their chests with screams. Willow's frantic "I didn't do it! I didn't do it!" was met by Spike's laughter and Tara's cry of "We just need to keep practicing, Sweetie!". Four figures ran for the parking area.

Two figures ran to the caves in the cliffs.

"Spike!" Buffy spat through a mouthful of storm water and squinched closed eyes.

"My jacket an' shoes an' all are in here!" Spike cried back, tugging her into the dark mouth of the cave. "I came in beachwear for you."

Buffy wiped water off her face and surveyed him. "_This_ is beachwear?" Black tee. Black jeans. Barefoot. Un-gelled hair. Now all were plastered to him.

Like her little sarong skirt and blue bikini top was plastered to her. Tight clinging nylon accentuating every little goose bump. "Well, yeah. No coat. No boots. Short sleeves." Spike licked his lips as he watched her watching him. "Was I over dressed?"

"A little." She saw that his prowl about start, the lowered head, the half-lidded eyes, the cheekbones more prominent as he held his lips in a smirk.

"Should get out of these wet things, yeah?" He was suddenly right with her, hands on her hips.

"Mhm." Her voice was high and breathless, right before she gave in. His shirt was whizzing off over his head as her sarong and bikini bottom hit the sandy floor of the cave. "We have to stope doing this in public places." She whimpered happily as they fell to the floor.

"This isn't public. Very private." Spike carried her deeper into passion and scooted her deeper into the recesses. "Very, very private. No one'll ever know."

* * *

"Where'd they go?" Willow peered through the driving rain.

"His car was parked somewhere that way." Anya gestured vaguely to the left of where the four friends were waiting out the deluge. "They probably headed for his car."

"You think they headed home?" Xander asked, cranking the wipers, trying to see.

"No. I think they're probably in the backseat of his car. It is wet. And chilly. And they're with the person they love. If I were wet and chilly and alone with Xander I'd certainly want to-"

"Please don't finish that sentence." Willow pleaded.

Anya gave her a scathing look. "Curl up together and stay warm." She finished in spite of her protest. "Honestly, just because I happen to have a high sex drive, you think that's all I talk about."

"Mm, lovin' the hormones." Xander nuzzled his girlfriend's neck once, but only once, mindful of their passengers. "It is pretty rare to find your own special snugglebunny-"

"NO!"

"Snugglekitty, Wills." Xander continued as if he hadn't been interrupted by a frantic shriek.

"This is true." Willow put her bare arm over Tara's t-shirt covered shoulders._ Wet _t-shirt covered shoulders. Tara had some shyness issues, but since the downpour, Willow could see the black one piece hugging her girlfriend's beautiful breasts through the thin white cotton.

She exchanged a look with Xander via the rearview mirror.

"Should we wait for them?" Willow asked guiltily.

Xander put the car in drive. "The Slayer and the Big Bad Boyfriend? Nahhh." He reversed and spun slightly on the sandy road. "If something major happens they'll send up the Bat Signal. Or they probably can handle it themselves."

* * *

"You can handle a bit more than that." Spike rutted greedily inside the sweet warmth on top of him. At his challenge, she leaned forward, sank her nails into his smooth white shoulders and pounded into him just as hard.

"Certainly one way to keep warm. The drying off part isn't working at all." She wiggled her pooling wet center deliberately on his shaft.

He groaned and looked delighted. "Certainly not getting dry in that particular place."

"Your fault." She purred.

"Oh yes. Blame me. Blame me." He beamed contentedly up at her. "You can blame me a little harder, Pet- and just a touch forward..."

Their blissful grunts were lost in the howl of the waves and pounding of the rain.

* * *

A few miles away, on a deserted stretch of road, the screams of two moving men were also muffled by the thunder.

Two lifeless forms fell to the side of a wooden box, bodies leaking blood, box leaking dirt, and a figure shimmered, changed, and flew into the storm.

* * *

A long train of figures processed from the elegant home in the hills above a small historic city.

"Where to?" Glory looked over her designer shades to her hooded escorts.

"Tibet. A remote monastery in the mountains. There is powerful, powerful pure magic there. The perfect place to hide the Key."

"You're sure?"

"Well, Mistress, I mean Majesty, I mean _Goddess_, the priests say it must be in a pure form, a new form."

"Let's do it then. I'm going to get my beauty sleep. Wake me when we get there. Oh and- get me a couple peasants for the trip, would you?"

* * *

Spike and Buffy slept, sheltered from the tempest in the snugness of their rocky burrow. Inside the chest that no longer rose and fell, a small light, a new light, thrummed contentedly in repose, feeling its mate peacefully beside it.

_To be continued..._


	3. Part II

Unknown

By Sweetprincipale

_This is set in my non-canon, but canon-esque series following Uncontrollable and Unmentionable. If you haven't read those first, please do, or this won't read nearly as well or make much sense. Unknown begins a few weeks after the end of Unmentionable, around the beginning of season five._

_Author's Note: Smut warning!_

_Dedicated to: ginar369, Alexiarrose, Sirius 120, DLilith21, rororogers, Illusera,_ _omslagspapper, Teddybear-514, Kerry220, BabyFaith18, MMwillow13, cavemenftw, lil-leti, MaireAilbhe, McPastey, sbyamibakura, Illusera, The Three March Hares, rosalea12, Alottalove, Silverwings2008,ShyL, Jewel 74, Mike13z50, and Babe Ruthless._

_Direct Quotes are obviously not mine, but belong to the fabulously talented and creative people who wrote them. In this case, some of season five's dialogue will be used. _

_**Disclaimer: Nothing of Buffy belongs to me, except my sincere admiration. However, this story is all mine.**_

**Part II**

"Buffy!"

_Busted._ "Hi, Mom."

"You were out all night." _Again._ "Mr. Giles said you were going to have a little picnic on the beach after you trained yesterday. I've been worried sick, you've been gone for hours!"

"Big storm. Willow needs a little more work with her elemental magic stuff." Buffy explained hastily. "I got caught in it, we all did, we left the beach but it was-um- really bad to drive in."

"When you still weren't back this morning, I called Mr. Giles. We were about to form a search party." Joyce tried to joke when Buffy appeared in the hallway, but her face was still tense.

"Oh... Mom. Mom, I'm really sorry. Sometimes slaying- o-or storms," she added truthfully, "gets intense. Try not to worry so much. You'll give yourself another headache."

"I already have one. But it's not because of you. Although I was very concerned. What were you doing, where were you?" Joyce put her hands on her hips.

"Pulled over off the side of the road during part of the storm." _Because after we woke up three hours later in some dark cave, I freaked, made Spike try to drive us back to town - then freaked and made him pull over because I swear he was driving by sense of smell, 'cause hey, black windows, black stormy night, death by car crash. Too much blackness. Mmm. Black has its good points though. Black jeans unzipping, black teeshirt balled up on his shoulders because when he hits that one spot inside all I can do is just hang on and ride that-_

"And the rest of the time? The storm didn't last all night."

Buffy reality checked herself and began speaking again, trying to sidestep into the kitchen. No dice. Her mother followed her. "I took a nap and then I hit the cemetery before coming home. Doing a quick check." _Which was fine and convenient since it was on my way to Spike's because I needed new clothes. I have clothes at Spike's place. I have a chair at Spike's place. There's OJ in his fridge for me, there's a chair beside his, there's a big cedar chest thing with ten pairs of underwear, towels, and a couple outfits. There's a mirror that he'll never use, but it's there for me, there's a huge, "make Cordelia Chase spit with envy" bathtub there because of me. It's not Spike's place, it's _our_ place. It's in a graveyard, but I feel happy there because I'm with him. He loves me enough to turn his world upside down, and I don't even care if he does or doesn't, 'cause I love him that much, too. I should just tell her._ "Um. Mom, while I was there I stopped in-"

"Joyce? Buffy? Is she here?" A voice, distressed and panting, interrupted.

Buffy's eyebrows became two fine blonde mountains. "Giles?"

Joyce's face turned mildly pink. "I told you we were worried."

Giles came in from the front door and smiled around the kitchen. "Oh, good you're back. With Spike, were you?" Giles looked relieved.

Buffy's jaw dropped and her eyes raked him with a single panicked "You did _not _just say that to my mom. " look.

"Spike?" Joyce demanded suspiciously.

"Patrolling. Patrolling last night, I-I told your mother you were probably simply patrolling. And I was sure you'd have some back up. Spike, perhaps?" Giles covered hastily, and with his sometimes natural stuttering, the combination of rushing and hesitancy seemed acceptable.

"I saw him around."

"And you're sure he's safe, Buffy? You're sure he's trying to help you, not hurt you?" Joyce pressed.

"Totally sure." Buffy said with conviction.

Joyce heaved a sigh. "Alright. Rupert, as long as you're here, would you like coffee?"

"Lovely, thank you." Giles joined them in the kitchen. It was only at that point Buffy noticed two cups were already out, arranged on a tray with sugar bowl and creamer.

Buffy gave Giles a look, which he returned.

"Erm. Buffy, let me have a word."

"Good idea." Buffy followed him out of the room, and then hauled him into the corner of the living room and hissed. "Spike? Can you say total Mom meltdown?"

"She doesn't want you to be alone." Giles soothed.

"But she doesn't need to have a heart attack hearing you blurt it out." She punched his arm softly and he jumped.

"Haven't you told her anything?"

"No! Well- a little. Like that we hang out. A little." She twisted her hands nervously. "But I thought we all agreed at one of our post-dream, post-being outed at the Bronze share-a-thons _I _could tell her."

"Yes, yes of course, you must be the one to tell her." _I'm only dealing with forty-odd years of my life, your mum's life, and all the rest of your lives all smashed into my head. _He thought with a touch of waspishness._ Do forgive me if I get things mixed up, between what I know and what the world knows. Oh, confound it. How can I be so thankful and so frustrated all at once?_ "How's that coming?" He tugged absently at the hair behind one ear.

Buffy winced slightly. "I can't. I'm trying to- but she's still got some big hang ups with me _slaying _vampires. Me _dating _one is going to be in the humungouslybad category." She shut her eyes to block out the yelling she could already hear.

"She might surprise you." _She'll realize being a vampire don't matter as much as loving someone. She'll want more than anything for you not to be alone, to be loved, to be protected when she feels too weak to do it. _

"Speaking of surprises- you being here? At the dawn's early light?"

"Your mother was worried."

"My mom has been worried for like, _ever_. You never pop over for coffee at six in the morning because she's 'worried'." Buffy gave him a speculative look.

"Do you object?" Giles asked with a faint grin, already knowing, knowing in a way that had nothing to do with prophetic knowledge but simply because he had faith in his slayer, what her answer would be.

"No..." She smirked at him. "Just be good. And- don't do stuff that'll freak me out, okay?"

"Such as?" He prodded, faint grin now downright devilish.

"Giles!"

"Buffy!" He countered. "Go. Go upstairs and get your mineralogy guide and your crystal set. Since I'm here, we can go work on your inner harmony and mineral resonance in the backyard."

"But-"

"You need to train." He said with kind sternness. _Even I don't know what to train you for. What to face. I only know the outcomes, flashes of battles, faint screams, half-conversations. The price for seeing a million moments in the space of one. It becomes so difficult to sort out. _

"Okay..." Buffy groaned and huffed away. "But it's totally uncool to insist on training at sunrise when I've been out slaying all night." _Not that I killed any vamps. I did get Spike to say he needed more blood, and that's nearly as good. _With a sudden smile, she trotted up to her room.

Giles sauntered back to the kitchen, ignoring Joyce's curious look and becoming fascinated with the coffee. "Smells lovely, Dear."

"Thank you." Joyce drank heavily, eyebrows drawn. "I'm hoping the caffeine will help the headache."

"Another headache?" His voice came out several pitches higher and much scratchier than usual.

"Lack of sleep, two nights in a row." Joyce smiled through the naggingly persistent pain that now seemed stubbornly to stick in one spot part of every day.

He nodded, forcing a smile onto his own face. "B-but perhaps you should see a doctor?"

"You think it might be a sinus infection?" Joyce asked.

"It could be." He walked to the fridge, poking about inside it with familiarity he didn't really feel, but he couldn't stand there, looking at her, knowing. _No, it's not a sinus infection. It's cancer. It's small now. It's growing every day, and I can't tell you. Not yet. If I tell you too soon about the things I know, you'll never trust me, oddly enough. Always asking me if I "knew" something, always wondering how much I let develop, how much did I maneuver things. When the tragic thing is, I already have tried to experiment. Fate is set. Like running into Hank and his fille de joie. I changed the route, I avoided the area- and we simply ran into him elsewhere. Like this. If I could magically know some cure, it wouldn't matter. You would have this tumor, and I would know what happens. And I would fall in love with you anyway. _"It's just important to get these things checked out as soon as possible, don't you think?"

"Hm. I probably should make an appointment. It's just I'm the only one at the gallery during the summer. I'd hired an art major from the college to help me, but she graduated." Joyce shrugged.

"I could help you!" Giles said quickly. "I already have once."

"Oh, I couldn't ask you to do that. You're a busy man."

"I am an unemployed librarian who was formerly a curator for one of the largest and most prestigious museums in the world." His eyebrow flicked smoothly onto his scarred temple. "I have a part time job that I'm certain you would let me create a schedule around."

She thought of a dozen protests. She overrode them all. "I insist on paying you." She said with a businesslike expression and factual tone.

He was equally matter of fact. "I insist on being paid. Hourly, of course, since I can't commit to being there at any certain time."

"Of course."

"Then I'll start after Buffy and I work out a training schedule for this week. You make an appointment with your doctor."

"I will. I'll call them as soon as they-" Joyce stopped speaking as the doorbell rang. "Who in the world could that be? It's barely light out." Joyce hustled to the doorway, coffee cup in hand.

Joyce opened the door with a bemused smile. It was unusual to see a man in a full fedora and long cloak, but that didn't exactly shock her. Not anymore. "Hello?"

"Ah, yes, Madam, I'm here to offer you a rare opportunity." The soft voice, with an unusual lilting accent, stroked Joyce's ears, in fact all of her senses, into an instantly relaxed stupor. "If I could just come in for a moment to-"

"Joyce, did you mean to leave the coffee maker on? In either case, are you terribly fond of it?" Giles emerged from the dining room holding a glass pot with a thick black glaze around the bottom of it. He stared past her to the empty porch as she slowly turned to face him. "Who was at the door?"

Joyce blinked. "I have no idea. Someone who wanted to demonstrate something, door to door salesman." She peered back out onto the porch. "Strange. He left."

"At this hour? My goodness, he must be an early bird." Giles held out the pot to her and Joyce examined it.

"Do you think super strength and a bottle of scouring soap could find their way into your training today?" She asked plaintively.

"Well- it certainly looks like it has a mineral composition at this point." Giles smiled.

"I heard that! The answer is no way!" Buffy came down the stairs. "Hey, did the doorbell ring?"

"Just some man who wanted to come in and make me an amazing offer." Joyce sighed.

"What? It's not even time for normal people to be up. It's _summer_!" Buffy rolled her eyes and the two adults rolled theirs as well, for different reasons, for the folly of the teenagers who think summer equals sleeping in and careers begin at noon. "He gets props from me. That's pretty hardcore. He must really want to make a sale." Her face took on a worried look suddenly. "But don't ever let anyone into the house who you don't know, Mom."

"Oh honey, for goodness' sake." Joyce scoffed and went to submerge her scalded, burnt-bottom coffee pot. "I don't need stranger safety lessons."

"I'm not talking about strangers, I'm talking about stranger than strange strangers." Buffy knit her eyebrows together, then shrugged. "Whatever. You weren't here when the last salesman came to the house, Mr. Maggoty Mary Kay."

"What, when was that?" Joyce looked horrified.

Buffy tried to appear nonchalant. _Spike sent him. Sent three. Hired killers, after me. Oh, great, now I'm making up sick little nursery rhymes in my head._ _I really don't want to tell Mom about this in any detail. "Hey, Mom, guess what, remember how Angel was good, then evil, then good again? Spike's doing the evil then good version, and he won't be going back to evil, I promise. Only he's still sort of bad. But he'll never hurt us. He has a soul, but don't tell anyone."_ _Not a good sales pitch._ "Two years ago. Some Order of Tarot Cards people."

"Order of Taraka." Giles corrected automatically.

She continued, "No big. Killed them. The point being, in Sunnydale- buy off the rack, you'll live longer."

"I'm sure it couldn't have been anything untoward, Buffy, it _is_ daylight. Vampires are all safely asleep, out of the sun." Giles soothed.

"Yeah. I know, I think I'm sort of paranoid lately." _I think it has something to do with the First Slayer, someone I thought was supposed to be like Superwoman, actually being an insane loner who invades dreams and wants to murder all my friends. Yeah. Very wig worthy, finding out there are psycho spiritual genes in me. _

"Well, try not to be." Giles kissed her head with an unusual, but becoming more usual all the time, display of affection. "We have quite enough to worry about without letting little paranoias seep in."

No one saw the small black bat, hanging on a branch, asleep in the shadowy leaves of the large oak across the street.

So he could not get into her home - at this moment. He had other ways to entrance those of her kind. For tonight, he could watch her, hiding in his brother-form of the bat, or the wolf, or even disguised as mist. Perhaps tomorrow he could meet her properly, join her in the darkness, watch her hunt before he introduced himself.

The end result would be the same. It always was. Maybe he was only taking so many pains because she was a Slayer, and the longest run of her sort, the most legendary. Nearly as legendary as him, at least to vampires.

Or maybe he'd just always liked showing off how unusual he was.

"You are not eating, Vincenzo."

"I am not hungry."

"Eat anyway. We move again in the morning, and we will will not stop for three days." The Abbot said quietly.

The younger monk sighed, "I know, Father." But he didn't eat.

"Speak, Son." The head of the order finally nudged.

Vincenzo leaned forward, eyes wary, ever darting around the room, even though it was empty save for the three of them. It was a heavy, wooden monk's cell, deep underground, guarded by the holiest of holy men, and fiercest of holy warriors. "I know that we move and we hide for a purpose, but even with all we do, how can we be sure the beast will not find the - Object, even hidden in the... Vessel?" He spoke guardedly as they had long since fallen into the habit of doing.

"She cannot find it if she does not look in the right places." Matthias shrugged with simple confidence. "It being what it is, and we being who we are, she will hunt in the good places of the world."

Vincenzo put down his spoon with a sickened grimace. "I know. She is _slaughtering_ _our brethren_ across the world."

The elder monk replied gravely, putting down his own bowl. "She takes a few hundred lives. Maybe even a thousand before her time is past and she will die in this realm, the portal never being opened, and when it passes away, still sealed, it will take her life force from this plane with it, her ritual incomplete." His eyes sparked with grim determination. "Better for her to take these few hundred lives, than to cause the deaths of everyone on this planet, better than allowing her to reach full strength again. Who knows, this world might be her first of many, were that the case."

"But eventually she will find us."

Matthias shrugged again, still eating resolutely. "That is a price we must pay. The price we _will_ pay."

Vincenzo was not so calm, though not irresolute. "I am not scared to die." That was not entirely true, but true enough. "I give my life for what is right, as you have always shown me, Father. What troubles me most is what if- well surely if, _when_, she finds us- will she not also be able to find the Dagon Sphere?" His voice a mere breath at the end.

"Do not even _speak _of the sphere!" The eldest of the trio hissed, waving his arm to silence the younger man.

"She could destroy it!" Vincenzo grabbed the brown sleeved arm, clutching like a fearful child.

"I thought it repelled her?" Mathias asked worriedly.

"It does. But she can eventually overcome it."

"It could be a weapon against her!" Vincenzo pointed out in a low, urgent voice. "Shouldn't we be-"

"No. Only if unlocked. By the Key." The Abbot dared use the proper term. "And if the Key's mystical property is used, she will find its energy trail, she will find the Key, and bring the battle to it. It is more prudent to hide it, as we have."

"She has found hidden things before. Her order finally found the right ritual to give her a human form- human enough to remain corporeal on this plane."

"That was in a volume from her dimension, we had no control over that. We have always had the sphere, and it has always been our order's responsibility to conceal it. It is well hidden, safely buried in the-"

"In the sacred caves, we know. But she is hunting through the sacred and pure spots of the world now. Isn't it _possible_ she may search _that_ spot?"

The Holy Father looked worried. "You are right. The chance is slim, but-"

"Where should we put it?" Matthias, ever practical, if youthful, asked.

"Where it will be safe." His leader spoke after a time.

"But nowhere is safe." Vincenzo replied in a bitter tone.

"There is one person who will die to keep it safe." The gray haired man explained smiling faintly. "No, two. She will die to keep him safe and save the Key. He will die to save her. And she will save him, he will save her, and on and on it will go." The smile softened. The power of true love, love that was true, irrevocable, unbreakable, not right, but _true_.

"Everything ends." Vincenzo pointed out softly.

"Souls do not end, Vincenzo. They merely move together. That is why we gave it that form. It is now indestructible, though it maybe moveable. And since we put it within the Slayer's best beloved, in the Slayer's care, it will always have a mate to guard it."

"But Slayers die." Matthias put down his now empty dish.

"And that is why she has her own protection. To stall that death." The smile faded. "If it can be stalled." He rose abruptly. "Tomorrow at sunrise we will start to the caves, not the Shrine as we had planned. We will tell no one where we are going, no one that we have changed course, and we will tell no one where we plan to go once we leave there."

"Yes, Father." The two bowed their heads and kissed the gnarled hands with reverence, then left. After years of serving with him, from young novices to ordained monks, now tried and tested members, they knew the low, almost guttural tone their leader spoke with meant there was no arguing, that all discussion was ended.

The younger men left, and their leader was left alone with his thoughts. _Surely she will not look there. Not on a Hellmouth. Not in a demon on a Hellmouth. Yes, a great warrior for good is there, in the midst of so much darkness, but we have camouflaged it so well... Surely she will not look there - until it is too late? It doesn't matter if she finds him, as long as she doesn't find him in time._

He turned out the light and lay down on his straw pallet. _All one can do is fight. And pray._

_ Look at how she runs down her prey. He never stood a chance. Something so small, but so deadly, all coiled muscles and flying blood. Ohhhh, Slayer blood. How is it possible someone such as I have never feasted on it? _

Buffy stood up, looking satisfied, dusting off her knees. _One down, and in record time. Training does a Slayer good. And now to get to the other part of the night that does this particular Slayer good. Oh, I hope he remembered to buy popcorn. Shoot! I forgot the bubble bath and I-_

With a startled gasp, Buffy drew up just a few yards from the crypt Spike had already disappeared inside. He knew not to get in her way, already content with the brawls he'd engaged in, not needing to be there and watch the "little woman" like a certain ex-jerk. Or two. Point being, they'd already had a busy night of baddie bagging, and she was now looking forward to a night of Ex-baddie shagging. And now this guy, coming out of nowhere, right in front of her.

"Very impressive hunt." He smiled slightly, addressing her in a rich, flowing voice.

Buffy took him in. _Let's see. Cape. Skim milk complexion. Widow's peak that rivals Scarlett O'Hara's. Old-school vamp. Sorry, Spike, I have to deal with one more member of the undead community before I can get to you._

"Such power." He rolled his r's, almost purring, and she could feel the vibrations against her ears and on her skin.

It pissed her off. No one got to make her tinglies go into confused mode but Spike. She tossed her hair with a broad smile. "That was no hunt. That was just another day on the job." She said with a cockiness that would have made her lover proud. "Care to step up for some overtime?" She offered as the caped figure seemed to drift towards her.

"We're not going to fight." His words dripped from slightly smiling lips.

She almost laughed. "Do you _know_ what a slayer is?"

His smile turned to a full smirk, one perfectly sculpted eyebrow accenting his powder white forehead. "Do _you_?"

Buffy looked intrigued, but still a little annoyed. "Who _are_ you?"

It was his turn to look intrigued. "I apologize. I assumed you knew. I am Dracula."

Her eyes widened and she looked delighted. "No way! That's so awesome!"

His look of intrigue turned to puzzlement, but smilingly so. "Is it?"

"Duh, yes! Just wait until my friends hear I killed Mr. Cape and 'I vant to suck your blood' himself. Oooh. Can we do an autograph real quick, or is that really tacky?" She began patting herself down. "Damn. No pen. You have a pen in that cape?"

Dracula looked taken aback. "What sort of a huntress are you?" He asked, both brows now arched in displeased wonder.

"You say huntress, I say slayer- you still end up dusty."

"Ah, no..." He walked slowly closer, hands behind his back, hair and cloak swishing with each smooth stride. "You can't defeat someone like me... You cannot defeat any of the truly great, truly long lived."

"You ever hear of the Master?" She grinned.

Dracula snorted through his elegant nose in derision. "We are all lucky at times. But to be truly great, you must _know_ the source of your own power." He was close enough now that if he had breath it would have rolled across her skin. "You would like to know it, yes?"

Buffy, her own hands behind back, let him sidle up, looking deep into his eyes, feeling oddly floaty, and yet being aware of exactly what he was doing, feeling enthralled by his voice and his motions, and his startlingly intense eyes. But that's the trick of not being fully enthralled, knowing someone's trying to do it. "I already know about my power. My true power, and the one _you're_ talking about. The 'slayer spark'? I know about it. I met Ms. Original Model herself."

"You do not know enough." His fingers reached slowly for her cheek. "You do not know about yourself, or ones such as me. If you think that you can make me 'dusty'..." He shook his head. "So much left to learn."

Buffy stopped short of letting her head meet his fingertips. Her eyes flickered behind him, then back, letting them do their own bit of luring. "I'm learning more. About me. My power. And I do have some insider help on 'ones such as you'." She smiled suddenly, a cheeky smile. "Would you like to learn something about slayers?" She asked in an almost silky, alluring tone.

She really was incredible, so many unexpected pieces to her. She was so strong, and yet capable of such sudden bursts of childishness and femininity. A prize for his harem, truly. His voice was husky as he leaned in, dropping lower, eyes sparking but becoming almost drowsy looking as he replied, "Mmm, yes indeed, do enlighten me, dear Slayer."

"Not all of us do the alone thing." Her hands came away from behind her back, and her supply, flirtatious lines went hard and deadly, even as her voice remained playful.

"Hm?" Dracula blinked and straightened up in surprise.

Buffy leaned forward, lips near his ear. "My boyfriend's right behind you." She said in a stage whisper.

He whirled- or at least his head did. Two angrily clenched hands appeared around his neck, and in a second and a splash of dust, Spike's head appeared where the Count's face had been.

"Stake 'im!" Spike shouted as the head was torn clean off. Buffy, stake already in hand, pulled neatly from the rear of her waistband, rammed the wood through the chest as it slowly fell to ash.

But there was no triumph, according to Spike. He was yelling, falling to the ground with the pile of ash, fists firmly clenched. "It's no good, no good like this, Luv!Only one way to stop _him _from reforming. Give me your cross and get holy water."

"He's staked and you ripped his head off. I'd say we did the two on one power play, why-"

Spike shook his head and motioned frantically. "Cross, holy water, fast!" She stared, slowly reaching under her shirt to take a small silver cross off, a very small one, one that didn't bother Spike unless touching him directly. "Move it, Slayer! You wanted to learn, now let me teach you!"

She tossed him the cross and than ran to his crypt, knowing, despite the oddity of it, Spike had a well stocked weapons chest behind one of the caskets upstairs, and she'd added to it since becoming a regular guest. There were bound to be several bottles there.

Spike watched her sprint off as he held the cross over the ashes that were feebly shifting back together, seeking the handful of ash Spike was clutching in one fist. The head's ashes. The head held the mind, held the power. Let them reunite and problems ensued. Spike's hand stung and burned, but he kept the cross aloft, holding the majority of the dust from finding its missing members.

Buffy came back, panting, holding out the water that made him wince just looking at it. "I got it, now what to do I do with it?" She gasped out.

"Dump it. All over this lot." He gestured to the faintly squirming gray mass.

Buffy's eyes widened and she yanked out the stopper. "He's still moving? No way!"

"Way. Oh hell, I'm talking like you again." Spike groaned.

"That is so totally cheating!" Buffy shook the water all over the ashes with furious shakes of her wrist, watching smoke begin to rise where the droplets fell.

He chuckled grimly. "He's a sneaky bastard. And he's gonna stay a dead sneaky bastard if we do this right." He reached into his hip pocket and tossed her the silver lighter that might as well have been another hand, as much a part of him as his arms and trademark duster. "Light it." He nodded to the smoking ground.

"I just poured water all over it, I don't think it'll burn." She protested.

"Trust me." He sighed. She did, and they exchanged a grin for all the strangeness of life that had taught them that they could trust each other, if no one else.

She bent at the waist and clicked the flame into life- watching it turn into a torrent of fire. "Spike, move!"

He scrambled back, one hand still holding the remains of the head, the other dangling the cross. "Good. Now I need another bottle of holy water."

Buffy gaped. "Isn't this overkill?"

"No, it's just enough kill! You gotta do all four for someone like him." He rattled them off, "Stake through the heart, decapitation, fire, and holy relics, and just to be on the safe side-" He shook the handful of ashes he held, "get me another bottle of holy water!"

"I don't exactly carry it with me anymore. Leaky bottles could cause burning boyfriend." She griped at his impatience, turning and running back to the crypt.

"Slayer!" He called after her in exasperation.

"Geez, I'll start keeping a stash in my purse."

In a few seconds she was back, a pink and white blur, bottle held out to her lover who still stood over the burning pile. "Pour it on again?" She asked.

"Nope, just uncork it for me." She did, and he carefully opened his fist, just enough for a steady stream to pour straight into the mouth of the bottle. "Pop the top in again, Luv." Buffy obeyed, watching in wonder as the fiery outline on the ground suddenly disappeared and the water in the bottle bubbled, simmered, and then went still. Spike grinned and nodded as he crossed his arms in satisfaction. "There. That'll look nice on the mantlepiece." He grasped the bottle and tossed Buffy her cross. "Popcorn an' the late movie?"

Buffy followed a few steps back, still checking behind her every few steps, struggling to take in what just happened.

"Think we should put it in a nicer bottle, Pet? Somethin' pink with daisies, wasn't that the ultimate insult?"

"You have issues." She laughed, suddenly paying attention to what he was saying.

"I have issues? You never met_ this_ bastard."

"That was him? The real him? _Dracula_, Dracula? Original vamp-meister?"

"The one an' only."

"What a goober. But great hair. I thought he'd be more... I don't know. More of a badass."

He waited for her to catch up, lacing her arm through his, speaking in a low, angry voice. "You have no idea what he'd have done to you. Not like any other vampires, Luv, not at all."

"Yeah. With the undead even for undead stuff goin' on." She agreed.

"Worse than that. He lives large, he likes his pretties. Has a harem of beautiful things he's 'collected'. I imagine you would have been the jewel of his collection." _Just like you're mine. Except for one difference. He won't love you. He'll trot you out, then throw you down, thrall you, make you submit. Me, now, I'll love you until I am dust in the wind, probably floating in the sunrise over your headstone, 'cause I can't live without you. You're my everything. You'd only be his plaything._ He felt oddly choked suddenly, some odd prickling up his spine, like he could almost see it, see a graveyard, see a grave for her.

Spike cleared his throat briskly and changed the focus of his little dissertation. "Aside from his entourage, he doesn't play by the rules."

"I know. I said that. With the not staying down once he was tagged." Buffy stepped into the gray-walled crypt.

"More than that. D'you know he can move in the daylight? Oh, he can't act like a vampire, but he can turn to a bat or a wolf, or even the bloody fog, and move about. Not for long, but he can be out in one of his little 'guises', more than the rest of us can. An' the way he worms in, with that thrall, an' those gypsy tricks, workin' his way-"

"Oh my God! Mom!" Buffy gripped his forearm. "Someone came to the house almost as soon as it was light this morning and he said he was a door to door salesman! Mom almost let him in but the coffee pot blew up and Giles stopped her. When she turned back around, the guy'd left!" She frowned and grit her teeth. "Ooooh, I just bet you it was him being wormy! Gimme that bottle." She grabbed it and shook it furiously. "If you can feel this, I hope you have a realllllly bad headache!"

While Spike sorted out the appearance of salesmen, exploding coffee, and the Watcher apparently being there at that early hour, he gently took the bottle from her hand before it ended up flung to the floor and shattered. "He's gone, Luv. This is just a little precaution." He set the bottle in the crypt's high, small couldn't resist giving it a little shake in spite of what he'd said. "Bastard. Glad your mum didn't let him in. He's probably hard to de-invite."

"I can imagine. So why do _you_ hate him so much?" Buffy followed him to the wall and observed the little rattle he gave the bottle.

"Oh it's not just me! All vamps hate him."

"Again- why?"

" 'Cause he's a poncey little braggart!"

Buffy coughed. "Sorry, what was that about bragging, 'Mr. Slayer of Slayers, I changed my _name_ to sound tough'?"

Spike blew that off. "Oh there's braggin' and then there is hurtin' everyone else in the process. It was him, lettin' humans know how to identify us- the mirrors? The garlic? The daylight? That wasn't so widely known before him. Then how to kill us, every twit with a flame or a piece of wood suddenly knew what to do to take us out. Mobs formed, cross sales went up..." Spike caught her icy gaze and he amended, "As it should be. Yeah. Now that I think of it, but at the same time- selfish bastard. He spilled his guts to some human he let get away, let go off and publish, but conveniently neglected to tell him that certain rituals have to be performed to keep _him_, Prince of Darkness, down."

Buffy shook her head and blinked. "Wow. So how'd you know to do the death times four stuff?"

"Spooky an' I are, or guess it's _were_ now, old rivals. He was part Romany, an' he loved to talk about how he was descended from nobles and from gypsy princes. I knew all about his flashy gypsy tricks an' his undead undyin' act. Liked to show off for the ladies, 'here, watch me burn' then pop up behind 'em. All over Dru..." Spike growled.

Buffy's eyes flashed in sudden hurt.

_I should have my mouth sewn shut half the soddin' time._ "No, Luv. Don't you think that's why I minded. Dru was all over him just as much, but he didn't want her. Just liked to make the birds swoon a bit. He gets big, he makes the biggest of big names, forgets all his old rivals. Plus he stiffed me for eleven pounds one night in Budapest. Don't roll your eyes at me, eleven pounds was worth quite a bit in the early nineteen hundreds! Besides, I know he cheated an' had an ace up his cloak, and I _still_ won! " His fist slammed into the back of the chair suddenly. "No one takes my winnings. I always get even."

Buffy managed not to laugh. "You taught him a lesson. Totally worth eleven pounds, even with inflation."

Spike smirked and swaggered a few steps to her, putting his hips to hers, hands at her waist. "Bugger the money. He was also making moves on my girl. My true love. No one does that an' gets away with it."

"Mmm, no one will ever win my heart. You got me." She kissed him lightly. The smug look her declaration earned nettled Buffy just a little, and she had to make one final, harmless teasing comment. "Although he did have very, very intense eyes." She tried to look dreamy.

He saw through it of course, that was the part of their relationship based on friendship, the teases that meant nothing. If Dru had admired something on another male, it would have torn his heart open, because she'd have no qualms about seeking out that which she admired. Buffy just wanted to let out that usually hidden devilish side, safe with her friend, her lover.

He played along, growling. "You want intense? I'll give you intense..."

She squealed, and popcorn was forgotten as she bolted down to the lower level of the crypt, him on her heels, skin tingling and adrenaline rushing._ I just took down the icon for vampires everywhere. And it was kinda anticlimactic. Of course, if I had had a big huge battle and staked him, he'd still be moving around and that's the kind of climax that goes on and on and on until you're just sick of the movie._

Spike wrestled her to the bed, and laughed over her, cheeks hollowed as his tongue flicked out over his pale lips. Buffy's eyes sparkled back up at him, turning darker with desire. _Then there's the kind of climax that goes on and on and on and you never want it to stop..._

"Just how intense we talkin', Pet?" He bent down to leave a soft, blunt bite on her neck, and then moved again, teeth now encircling one bra covered hill and closing so that most of her nipple and its base were squeezed between his teeth.

She gasped at the crushing sensation, hot, wet lightening seeming to go from her peak to her core. "That's new."

"Mmm, well I don't usually play rough in here." He purred and did the same to the other breast.

"This is rough?" Buffy asked, slightly playful, slightly nervous.

He looked up at her, head still bowed over his treat, and ran his hands slowly up her arms, pinning her wrists at shoulder level as they rested on the mattress. With a soft press of his pelvis to hers, he let her feel the hardness of his shaft trapped in denim. He nudged up and in, crotches grinding.

Her breath caught. Something about the way he moved, pressed her, above her, all slow and deliberate... She got it. There was someone messing with your head, and having staring contests, and then there was _actually_ intense.

"Unzip me." A whisper in her ear as his head moved and he let go of one of her wrists. She found her fingers all skittish suddenly and she tugged him free with a fumble. "Now you."

She was better this time, but still couldn't get a lot done with just one hand, so she arched up- which gave her the added bonus of meeting a stiff, straining cock with the silkiest part of her belly. Her pants and panties slid to her knees and he reclaimed her hand, eyes never leaving hers.

Head lowered, nose on top of nose, lips almost against hers but not kissing.

"Nnnnn." She made the noise when he thrust solidly in her, all in one motion, and held himself there. Held her there, eyes, hands, cock, pinning her flat, covering her in pressure and pleasure.

"Is this intense enough for you?" He whispered in a perfectly even tone, no rolling accent needed to make her simply and utterly captivated. She nodded once. "Do you know how much I love you?" She nodded again, then licked her parted lips as she murmured,

"I like when you tell me, though."

"D'you like when I show you?" He moved inside her, back and up, touching a sensitive patch of nerves that made her thighs jump. One corner of his mouth twitched in a smile.

"Yes." She answered, breathless and unsmiling, all of her trembling with this new kind of heat.

"Then I'll tell you. And show you." He let go of her arms and moved his hands to the sides of her face, pulling her in for a kiss and letting his hips start finding a slow, sensual rhythm, even though the restraint was killing him. He smiled against her lips. Was killing her, too, so all for a good cause. "Love you, Baby."

"Love you, too." She arched against him again, trying to make him move faster. He wouldn't play. He refused to be moved to a quicker pace, no matter what tricks she used, flutters, milking motions, squeezes, all the talents of a very loving and flexible chasm, all the pouts and hot, probing kisses, even hard, skin bruising love bites on his pale neck. He just pounded into her, steadily, steadily, steadily, rocking, washing waves to a fiery shore.

He could feel it building in her. God knew it was building in him. He didn't know he _owned_ this much patience, and he'd been loving Buffy for a few months now, something that called for buggerin' great bags of the stuff. But he held out. _Steady, steady, steady gonna show her there's all different kinds of intensity, there's sweet torture that never gives my beautiful girl a second of pain. Maybe a little frustration..._

She mewled in need but he didn't change his speed. "Spike." She finally said helplessly.

"Trust me." He kissed her again. "Remember how much I love you."

She did, letting her restless body move under him as best it could well flattened under him, restless mind go for hazy swims in her memory, thinking of thousands of little ways he said it, showed it, proved it, mainly by never leaving her, by keeping her heart whole.

Her body twitched, center outward this time. Her eyes flew open, instantly catching his smirk.

The steady thudding finally hit the overload button. "Oh. Oh God."

"Mmm?" He asked in a teasing voice.

"Oh. Oh, oh, oh, oh." She couldn't say more, couldn't think more. Plodding blows were now deadly accurate hammer taps on that hidden kernel of flesh inside her. And then like explosive charges. And then like actual explosions. Stimulation had reached critical mass and it was about to go into nuclear territory.

"Go with it." He felt her twisting inside, tightening up, pressing him now, capturing him now, from underneath. Her moist slit was now a raging river in a vise, pulling him up and up and up-

She had to have him out, but she could never let him go. If she didn't stop this sensation she would go crazy and if he stopped she would kill him. "Ohhhhhhhh!" Her muscles made the decision for her, pushing out with a flash of contracting, blinding pleasure and a rush of liquid heat.

His shaft slipped free, like a long, slick champagne cork from a bottle that fizzled over. Wetness soaked him, and splashed him.

He panted once, a harsh noise of surprise, and looked at her glazed eyes, and flushed face.

"That. Was. Awesome." She whimpered. He tried to reenter and she shook her head frantically. "Nononono. Too much yummy. Can't breathe."

He ran one hand lightly over her mound, curls to thighs. Soaked. And a little puddle on the bed. "You okay?"

"Something went sploosh." She laughed weakly and ran her hands under his shirt, tugging it off him. "We need more naked."

"You're cum drunk." He slid his shoulders through the fabric.

"Nu-uh. I- we haven't done that in awhile." She didn't even blush, she was riding a happy pink cloud and her insides were throbbing like a heartbeat.

"No, Sweetheart, you've cum really hard and you're all hazy."

"What happened?" She helped slide her own clothes off as he stood now, gently undressing them both.

"I think you came like I normally do. Little hot burst?" Something wet and sticky had graced his stomach at her peak, a single slosh, just above the sparse mat of dark hair between his sharp hip bones.

"Biiiiig hot burst." She corrected him.

He laughed. "Did it really feel that wonderful?"

"Very yes. But we can't do that all the time."

"Too intense for you, Slayer?" He teased.

Even in her bedazzled state she knew that was probably one too many smug jibes, so she grabbed him by the hand and yanked him back to the bed, nipping him as she held him beside her.

He laughed but then the laugh turned to a sharp wheeze and she could feel him pulling away. "Spike? Spike!" She grabbed the hand he was tugging free. "Baby, you hurt your hand really bad!" The hand that had held the cross was a welter of red chain outlines and cross-shaped burns. She kissed all over the ruined flesh and looked up at him accusingly. "You did all that sexual marathon man stuff with me, held on so tight that whole time, with your hand like this?"

"Stop fussin', just a bit of a scald." He tried to recapture his hand, but she would have none of it.

"You gave me such an amazing time and I didn't even notice you were hurt." She sounded so sweetly sad, laying her warm cheek to it, shaking her head slightly, for his unselfishness and for her own obliviance - which probably wasn't a word.

"Heart, when I was with you, like that, I didn't notice it either. Whole roof could cave in and I wouldn't think anything of it. Car alarms could blare inches from my head-" they shared a grin of remembrance, "and all I'd hear was your heartbeat." He lifted her chin with his good hand as he sat beside her on the bed, damaged hand still cupping her cheek. "They say humans don't have the power to enthrall someone. But they never met you."

A short, passion-filled kiss erupted, that left him on his back, and her on top of him. The forefinger of his burnt hand sliding slowly, slowly all the way into her warm, talented mouth as she began moving on top of him, slim naked waist with slightly puffy lips under ad tight triangle of curls just hovering over his slick member, so recently inside of her.

She switched hands, realizing his skin probably should heal first, and repeated her tantalizing oral caress on his other forefinger, tongue wrapping around the sensitive digit as her pussy wrapped around him.

"Hhh." He let out a constricted noise of arousal, watching her gyrate slowly, sucking his finger the way she sometimes sucked other pieces of him. In and out, always slow and deliberate, that sweet torture he'd just schooled her in. He knew the hands could be incredibly sensitive, he just didn't know you could redefine oral sex to include any body part you wanted- at least if it was her mouth doing the job. "Oh God." He groaned.

She pulsed around him and released his finger, cradling his hand in hers and running it down her neck, across the satiny expanse of her shoulder and finally leaving it at the cleft of her bust, snuggling it between his favorite pillows. His fingers gently latched on as she released him, using her own hands to tangle in her long blonde hair, a seductress caressing herself, with green eyes like witch's fire, burning into his blue.

He gasped and lay there, under her spell, member twitching and trapped, submitting to the same sort of rhythm he'd used on her, only it wasn't a pounding now, it was a sweetly clasping slide. A pump, pull, pump, pull that was driving him mad. "Oh, _God_." He repeated, eyes shutting and chest heaving up.

"I learned from the best." She purred.

_Several days later..._

"She must be the best there ever was. Are you sure it is true?" A short figure shook his head and sighed into his cell phone. "Thanks for the gossip, Marta. Not really what I was looking for in terms of 'forces of good', but yes, she certainly must be. Keep in touch. Yes, just a few months until the great day. Kiss the spawn for me. Bye bye now."

"Any word?" One of Glory's minions addressed its fellow as he hung up the phone.

"No new leads. Although Marta says there is great upheaval in Romania, Dracula's servants are de-thralled and fighting for supremacy and control of his estate."

"What in the world? Why?"

"The current slayer took him out. Actually out, fully and finally dead, or else his thrall would still be in place." He scratched his lined chin. "She must be powerful. A very powerful force. For good." He turned to his companion with a questioning expression, "Do you think we should-"

The second minion easily shook his head without hesitation, the thought so utterly ludicrous. "No, she's still human. I'd hope the monks wouldn't underestimate Glorificus so much that they'd hide the Key with a single paltry human. Humans die all the time, very easily."

"I guess you're right. Besides, Slayers live in the evil infested areas, areas where Glory would be strongest. The monks are stupid as all humans are but still quite crafty. I doubt they'd deliberately lead her to power."

They paused in the kitchen of the estate they temporarily resided in, a de-sanctified monastery in Tibet, now free of monks, and free of holiness, a place of slaughter that had still not brought any information.

"Hm."

"Unless that's what they _want_ us to think."

"Hmmm," a deeper and more drawn out sound, "no. Even if they were trying to be deceptive, surely they wouldn't ask _one_ ordinary human to be responsible for such an object of power. Slayers are all alone, and short-lived as a rule, and already busy battling, too busy to be entrusted with such a guardianship."

His fellow minion conceded.

They had no idea how extraordinary the human, the slayer, in question was.

_To be continued..._


	4. Part III

**Unknown **

**By Sweetprincipale**

_This is set in my non-canon, but canon-esque series following Uncontrollable and Unmentionable. If you haven't read those first, please do, or this won't read nearly as well or make much sense. Unknown begins a few weeks after the end of Unmentionable, around the beginning of season five._

_Author's Note: A little heavy on the "fantasy" aspect, but I promise I need it for later. Just bear with me. _

_Dedicated to: ginar369, Alexiarrose, Sirius 120, rororogers, omslagspapper, Teddybear-514, MMwillow13, cavemenftw, lil-leti, MaireAilbhe, Illusera, Edward Cullen Brings Sexy Back, The Three March Hares, rosalea12, ShyL, Jewel 74, and Mike13z50._

_Direct Quotes are obviously not mine, but belong to the fabulously talented and creative people who wrote them. In this case, some of season five's dialogue will be used. _

_**Disclaimer: Nothing of Buffy belongs to me, except my sincere admiration. However, this story is all mine.**_

**Part III**

"Thank you for closing so I could go to the pharmacy straight from my appointment." Joyce sighed, sitting beside her new friend/beau on the couch. "And for coming over here to give me back my spare key. You really didn't have to do that."

_You've no idea. It was all I could do to stop myself from meeting you at the door, let alone wait a decent, gentlemanly interval before surreptitiously "returning your key". Although it had its compensations..._

"Well, thank you for repaying me with a delicious late supper." Giles smiled, trying to let himself relax, tone down the worried curiosity in his head. It didn't work. "How-erm- how was your appointment?" He asked, sipping his water, trying to appear interested but not ravenously anxious.

"Fine." Joyce fondled the single key on the simple chain as she picked it up from between their now empty plates. "If you're going to work at the gallery, maybe you should just hang on to this."

"Oh. I- I only worked there once, and- that's your livelihood, are you sure you want me to hold on to that?" He answered in a flustered voice.

"I trust you with my daughter's life. I think you can have the spare key to my shop." Joyce said drily.

"This is a good point." He grinned yet again, more at ease than he had been before, but still on edge. _Forget the shop. It's full of things, things we can buy more of, make more of, but there's only one Joyce Summers. _"I'll take good care of it. Speaking of taking care of things, the doctor?"

"Oh right, my prescriptions." The weary looking woman eased off her heels, pushed herself back off the couch, and made her way to the hall table where the small bag from the pharmacy waited.

"Prescriptions?" He pressed in the same forcedly light tone.

"Yes, two. Something for pain and an antibiotic."

"Of course." _No, not "of course", why an antibiotic?_ "Antibiotic?" He rose, then grabbed their plates and took them to the kitchen, cover for his nervous action.

"Mhm." Joyce followed him as he passed the hall table, getting herself a glass of water from the kitchen.

_Damn it, Joyce, don't treat this so casually! Well, why shouldn't she? She doesn't know what you know._ "Was it a sinus infection causing the headaches?" His eyebrows drew together in concern.

"No... but he said it might be one forming. He said to try these and if it doesn't get better I should come back in a week."

_Irresponsible quack! It's not going to get better, and who knows how much bigger it's going to get in a week! A _week_! I have to get you help before it's too late. _He took a deep, silent breath. _I know it won't be too late. I've seen her. Seen us. It's not too late, it won't be too late, I know we help her get better- but yet I don't know how it happens. How do I do this?_ He changed from self-torment to heaven-directed pleading. _How can you show me so much and it still not be enough? _He squared his shoulders._ Never mind what they can do, Rupert, it's up to _you_. Find the tools. Find the way. Stop wasting your time and your life and _save hers.

He removed himself from this reverie with an effort, something he's had to do a lot recently. "Did he run tests? Take blood?" Giles asked in a voice that was nearly stable.

"Oh, Rupert." Joyce swallowed her pills and smiled as she took the glass from her lips. "You're acting like a mother hen!"

_I'm acting like a man who knows he can help you- if we act fast enough. God, what's "fast enough"? A timetable would have been nice to have with the visions... _"I'm simply returning the favor for all the mothering you show our scrappy little band." He sidled up to her as they both moved to the sink.

"Thank you. Although I hope you don't think I'm too matronly." Joyce gave him a small, cat-like smirk he just caught from the corner of his eye.

"No... not in the slightest." _You're my partner. Meant to be my partner. In so many ways..._ He spontaneously leaned over and pressed his lips to the side of her smooth, almost lily temple, wishing he could "kiss it better". But cancer isn't like that, even before they put a name to it, you can't make it go away.

"Mmmm. That feels nice." She sighed, and patted his hand before straightening up, reaching for a dishtowel. "How did things go at the gallery?" Joyce asked.

"We sold a piece. That large glass sculpture, the butterfly. Tara and Willow came in after class as well, on their way to the Espresso Pump, I believe. Did you know Tara knows a great deal about art? It's her minor."

"I don't really know her. Are she and Willow..." Joyce trailed off.

"In love? Yes." He answered with soft decisiveness. Their hands met over a plate, him washing, her drying.

What a nice, simple phrase. Joyce smiled at their soapy hands as she repeated a phrase she certainly never dreamed she'd apply to herself again, not in this lifetime. "In love."

"Very much so. It happened rather quickly. But it can sometimes." _Or it can seem fast, and maybe happen over a long time. Or seem like a long time, even though it only took a minute. The main thing is, it happens._

"Lucky girls. They both are very sweet." Joyce swallowed hard, feeling silly, and stacked the two clean plates back in the cabinet.

"Yes, very sweet. I mentioned Tara's interest in art because she might also be a resource for you. For the gallery."

"Oh, I don't think the gallery is a three person business." Joyce laughed with a sigh. "Not yet. Maybe one day."

"Well, true. But if you ever needed an additional hand, I know all of us will be glad to help out." _We all will. It_ is_ a two person shop. You just might not be one of the people, not all the time_. _Just for a bit. You'll be back._

"Very comforting." Joyce laughed. "So we had one sale?" She shut the cupboard door. _Hm. "We"._ Funny little dreams from college came back to her. She would find a guy. He'd love her, and he'd love art, and they'd own a small but successful gallery which would later become a private, upscale gallery where the very finest art and most exclusive artists would show.

Ideal futures changed. She met Hank. A business major with dreams of his own type of success. Then they had a child, and she dreamed of a beautiful, brilliant daughter growing up, their little princess, growing up and chasing her own happy life.

The marriage fell apart. Buffy fell apart. They moved, but trouble chased them. She thought they could run from it, but the only thing that ran was her daughter. One horrible night, after a horrible fight, Buffy ran away. She came back, and the nightmare world followed her. It seemed like-

"Joyce? I said no. We had several sales. A few of the less expensive prints went as well, but the glass sculpture was the big sale of the day." Giles watched her eyes seem to go into a faraway trance before coming back when he brushed his hand against her back.

"Oh. Sorry, Rupert. That pain killer I took must have kicked in." She apologized, blinking.

"Should I let you rest? Maybe you'd like me to open for you tomorrow? You could have a little lie in?" He asked solicitously.

"No, don't go, stay and watch the movie. It's starring Cary Grant." Joyce took his arm and led him back to the couch.

"Are you sure? What about tomorrow?"

"I'd love it if you came by the gallery tomorrow to help out. If you're free."

"I think I can be. I just have to compare notes with Buffy, Willow, and Tara at some point. Other than that, I'm all yours."

They sat side by side, the black and white MGM logo rolling across the screen, inching closer to each other, until his arm went around her shoulders and her head rested on his chest. "That sounds great." She confessed. " 'All yours'."

The great guy. Who loved art. Loved her? That wasn't determined yet, maybe never would be. But they could be working at the gallery together. Maybe her dream was going to come true- only twenty years later than she'd imagined.

As for Buffy... Her little princess- well, she was beautiful. And bright. Apparently a ruthless hunter of evil and yet she still managed to have decent fashion sense. Joyce chuckled against the warm body beside her.

"Yes, I do love this opening bit." Giles chuckled as well, eyes on the screen.

"Mmm. Me, too." _You don't know how your dreams will come out. Who will be in them. _She let her hand rest on his bicep, then stomach. She gave a deep contented sigh.

"Happy, Darling?" He asked.

"It's nice to have you here." She smiled.

"Thank you. Nice to be with you." He let his arm tighten on her. "To be with someone..."

Her eyes fluttered shut, enjoying the feeling of a man beside her. Of not being alone. Speaking of alone... "Is Buffy at your place?"

"Yes. I lent her the key and told her to lock up when they were finished researching. It seems to be quite the day for keys."

"Researching what?" Her mom-o-meter clicked up a notch.

"I'm not sure. They did deal with Dracula several days ago, and I concur the method for his dispatch will hold him and- Buffy didn't mention that happened, did she?" Joyce had gone bolt upright against his side.

"No. She did not!" Joyce's eyes blazed. "Dracula? The vampire, _Dracula_? He's- isn't he fictional?"

"She didn't want to worry you, I'm sure." He placated.

"He's real!? Oh. Oh I hate this." Joyce put one hand to her head and one to her stomach as a wave of worried nausea struck her. "I hate this topsy turvy world, and worrying all the time if she's safe, and-" Her word flow stopped abruptly, as a thin, elegantly shaped mouth crashed onto hers.

_This is certainly the best way to prevent an argument._ Giles sank into the kiss for a few more moments, then pulled back gently. "She had help. Spike is an expert on many dark things, Dracula in particular, and he made sure she was safe."

"Spike? Oh, Rupert." She glared briefly, a reflexive reaction.

"Would you rather she face these things alone? Like the other slayers have? Last to ancient first?" _Always alone. Right until she crashed into the Chosen One role and made it simply "Chosen"._

"No. No, I don't want that." Joyce recalled her conversation with Anya, recalled the smashed statue of _Artemis Attended_ she'd bought with Giles, broken with Giles. A hollow eyed glass girl, easily shattered, always alone. Her attendants were a pack of hunting hounds. A Slayer's companions were not hounds, unless you considered them the hounds of hell, and they didn't track the prey, they _were_ the prey. Underworld demons in many forms. Spike was one of them. But he was different.

_Dreams always turn out differently than you expect. A few twists and turns you don't quite see._

Giles was lowering his head to hers again. "He's a loyal friend to her. Give him a chance to prove it. To repair damages. Like you gave me a second chance."

"_You're _not a brutal killer."

Another flicker in his eyes, one she couldn't read. "Who knows what a heart is capable of, good or bad?"

With a muffled murmur she kissed him again, hard, surprising them both._ I know what a lonely, empty heart is capable of. How it gets suspicious and bitter and hard. Like Anya said the slayers become, all the humanity burnt out, all the ties they lose to life and love. My little princess... not locked up in some tower, but just as lonely. _

_I don't know what to think about her, about him, about any of this. I just know it's hard to be alone, and I don't wish it on her. Or him._ Her hands tangled in the pepper sprinkled hair of the man she wanted to be with, help him stave off the loneliness, have his help in return. Fight a different kind of demon, one so common, one so simply human...

"Joyce?" His body received signals he wasn't sure it was meant to receive. His gentlemanly facade always cracked under a certain type of pressure, and Ripper leapt right out, home again.

"Buffy's researching with Willow and Tara?"

"I believe so."

"After that?"

"She'll be home eventually, I suppose. The girls have class in the morning."

"So let's not waste time." Her hands unbuttoned the the top button with a deft flick of her thumb.

Giles' eyes widened in pleasurable surprise. He wasn't sure how far it was going- but it was going farther than it had previously. His sudden laughter filled the room as they sank back on the couch once more. "I think research can last quite a long time. Especially when Willow's leading it."

"Good." Joyce pushed the switch on the nearby lamp and plunged the room into darkness.

* * *

"These are dark conduits." Willow handed Tara a worn leather-bound book.

"I found old powers and some things about 'channels'." Tara passed her a second volume.

"This isn't exactly a cool date night, is it?" Willow asked, biting her lip nervously.

"It is! It so is! Very cool." Tara squeezed her girlfriend's wrist. "I love it. B-besides, it's my fault we're reading instead of doing something else."

"Learning about your power isn't a fault thing." Willow tapped her lover firmly on the nose. "It's very- couple-y." She beamed and they brushed their long locks together in a side to side sweep, like cats marking each other affectionately. "You help me learn how to control my power-"

"You help me develop the strength of mine."

"The Earth to my Air." Willow let the book close as her fingers grasped the blonde mist on her shoulder.

"Sweetie..."

Words fell away in a kiss that became increasingly frantic. "We have to stop." Willow finally gasped out and pushed herself back with an effort.

Tara nodded, eyes downcast. "R-right. It's not the time."

"Oh, it's the time." Willow was shoving their stacks of books away, closing all of them, sticking little bookmarks hurriedly between the pages as she did so. "I just can't risk getting Giles' books dirty. I think he might cry. I've only seen him cry once, and my whole heart felt like someone put it in an industrial juicer."

Tara blushed and began helping, the last step being to place all of their borrowed reading material safely on her desk. "Mr. Giles is really sweet."

"Giles! _Just _Giles, remember?" Willow reminded her sweetheart, turning to her with a delighted anticipatory grin.

"Right. He's nice. He's the first guy I haven't minded -" She trailed off and wrapped her arms around Willow's waist instead.

"He won't hurt you. No one'll ever hurt you again. Promise."

She meant it. Tara glowed. Whether she was bad or good, demon or part-demon or simply human, Willow loved her.

Tara was happy, and in love, and passion-filled. At moments like that, these rare occasions, alone and safe and loved with Willow, she radiated a white heat, and luminescent beauty.

"Ohhh yummy." Willow's eyes widened as she found herself wrapped in something magical, yet purely Tara. Joining them. Balancing them. Soon they wouldn't be able to tell where one ended and one began. Which meant they should move to the bed. Far, faaar away from Giles' books.

"Love you." Tara breathed against her ear, yet somehow seemed to speak right to her heart.

"I love you."

"Then what's wrong?" Tara's glimmering skin seemed to melt over Willow's strawberry and cream complexion as her hands stroked her face, then her chest, clothes coming off.

"Guilt."

It was like someone pulled the plug and the magical electricity went out. "Guilt?"

"Yeah." Willow's lip was back between her teeth again. "I know Buffy said we could just take the books back to our room, but I didn't sign them out. I think it's post-library blowing up association disorder. What with Giles being the librarian, and these are his books so-"

She was tackled back to the bed, and she squealed as the sparkling smile returned to her girlfriend's face and eyes.

"You! You scared me!"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry! Don't tickle me!"

"Maybe I'll just bite you instead!" Tara laughed and bit down on the cherry lips gently.

"It's what you get for dating a good girl gone bad." Willow pouted saucily. "Well... not 'bad'. Just not exactly meshing my cool new wicca self with plaid kilt girl of '99."

"I know." Tara's mood traversed from playful back down to that soothing yet mystical attitude, something combining love, lust, comfort, and passion. "I saw parts of your dream."

"I saw parts of yours." Willow smiled up at her, stroking back a tendril of hair.

"I would love you however you came to me. B-because I love you." Her eyelids drooped again. That didn't make much sense, she supposed. You can't define the word by the word, the idea with the idea. Only with Willow-

"Ditto." Willow nodded firmly.

Tara's heart lightened and her eyes opened again. _Willow gets it. Just like me, but different than me too. Perfect for me._

Their passionate play resumed, clothes off, naked forms straddling and colliding, wrapping and curling. And then- "Do you think I should call him? Let him know where they are? What if he does a pre-bed book count?"

"Isn't he helping Joyce with something tonight?"

"Oh yeah..."

Kissing and entangling sped up, positions reversing again.

"W-we could take them back before bed, and borrow them again tomorrow?" Tara suggested, finding them falling off the bed with a thump that made their potion ingredients rattle in their glass stoppered jars, and an unlit candle fell off the dresser and roll across the floor. One of the bookmarks fluttered to the ground.

"Hmm." Willow considered and then shook her head. "Spike and Buffy are probably over there still."

"You don't think they-"

"I don't know what I think." Willow giggled.

"Not in Mr. Giles' apartment!"

"No. You're right. Although, the idea of the two of them just sitting and reading and taking notes together for hours?" She couldn't even conclude her thought, ending in puzzlement.

They exchanged a shrug. "That'd be pretty freaky."

"There's freaky and then there's totally unbelievable."

"You never know." Tara blushed, thinking that having magically aided lesbian wicca sex was probably right up there with both Spike and Buffy researching- or making out (and more) in the middle of Mr. Giles' oriental rug.

"I'm gonna go back to my original statement and go with the 'I don't know what to think' option."

* * *

"Do you think they think this is weird?" Buffy put down her twentieth big, headache-y book of the evening.

"Yeah._ I _think this is weird. You an' I, havin' a research night in the old man's flat. All that's missin' is the good china, someone's maiden aunt, and a fat, fluffy cat. Slayer, are you even reading them, or do you just pick 'em up, open 'em, and put 'em back?" Spike came up behind her with an exasperated noise and took the book back out of the shelf Buffy'd just stuffed it into.

"I don't know what I'm looking for!" Buffy cried. Then blushed. "And yes. Maybe I am doing that. But only with the ones that aren't in English!"

"This is in English." Spike frowned at the text he held.

"Seriously? That's English?"

"Just because they don't say 'like' an' 'totally' after every other word..."

"Just- look at this." Buffy pulled it back into her own arms. "It's all squiggly and says things like 'Thou fhalt sind sorty-"

"The f is s."

"Huh?"

"The f is s. S is F. "

"Huh?" She repeated, looking at the curlicue script.

"Bloody hell, and you think this isn't English. I wonder why." He snarked with a nasty smile.

"Don't go jerk-boy on me." Buffy snapped.

"Just add it to the pile of lessons?"

"Spiiii-iiike." The snap turned to a whine.

"Don't whine, and I won't jerk." He paused, then coughed. "That could've come out better."

"You have a dirty mind, and we have to keep looking." Buffy sighed and her eyes turned determined again.

"I don't know what I'm lookin' for!" He cried.

"Neither do I, and I said it first!"

"We need help. We need to ask-"

"No!" Buffy cut him off, fear in her voice. "They said to hide it."

"Well it's hidden!" He pounded his chest once. "Deep in here, you're not gonna x-ray me an' find it like I swallowed the damn thing."

"So? Even if it stays hidden, out of sight, there are lots of meanings to 'hide'." Buffy shook her head urgently.

"Such as you have such a pretty pink hide?" He tried to defuse the panic he could hear rising.

"Such as to hide, as in 'not to tell'." She ignored the compliment-slash-innuendo.

"We could tell your Watcher. You can trust him, can't you?"

Buffy licked her lower lip and let him pull her near. "I know I can trust him. But I don't know if I can trust _them_. As in the guys who gave it to you and took out the chip."

"You did that bit."

"I didn't! I couldn't have."

"Well someone up in the dream factory says you did."

She looked up into his eyes. "Whatever. I just don't know what's going on and I'm - I'm-" She groped for a word.

"Scared?"

"I don't like that word."

"True though, isn't it? And we don't lie to ourselves, you an' I. No more pretend."

"You told me there was nothing left to be afraid of." She said softly.

"Except losing you. An' I just got you. No one is gonna take you away from me. I'm not leavin', either." He voiced their one fear, as they had several times in the face of their worries.

She sank into his embrace and he thoughtfully rested his chin on her head. "While we're speakin' of leavin' though, I wouldn't mind leavin' this _place."_

"But -"

"We let the witches take out a few books, why not us? Can say I wanted to research durin' the day when I'm all cooped up."

"Ooh. We're supposed to meet back over here tomorrow, Willow and Tara and Xan and Anya."

He looked at her. "And you want me to come?"

"You can say you were returning the books." She shrugged innocently.

"They'll know why I'm stayin' though, not just returning and dashin'."

They regarded each other with a slow smile. "No one really minds. Even without knowing you're souled up or unchipped." Buffy traced a fingertip over his chin and down his chest. "Funny. I always thought it would be such a huge deal." _But it's not. Not to me. Not to them._

"Depends on what you learn." He tipped her chin up. "We weren't the only ones with the weird dreams." He bent to kiss her and then squinted before joining their mouths.

"What?" She frowned.

"You know who's dream is missin' something big?"

"Wait, _what_?" The expression of confusion deepened.

"We all told our dreams- with some chunks missin' I'm sure. But the boy-"

"Call him Xander." She prodded him in the ribs.

"Fine. Xander. He had the big heart debut, an' realizin' you had to use your heart- let yourself love someone."

"He meant you, he just couldn't _say_ you." Buffy rolled her eyes.

"I know." Spike smirked, then scowled. "But why's he _okay _with it?"

"Because he didn't want my heart to get ripped out?" Buffy explained while projecting a "well, duh!" expression.

"He said you needed to use your heart, and love the one who fit you, had the key to your heart."

"Key. Oh God, _key_!" Buffy gasped.

"He knows somethin' but I don't think he knows everything." Spike mused. "He would've told you, even if he wouldn't tell the rest of us."

"Not if he was told to keep it a secret. Like we were." Buffy turned away abruptly. "I hate this. I'm not good at keeping secrets."

Spike laughed just once, but it was so hard he snorted. "Sorry, but you- queen of the double life, have trouble keepin' secrets?"

"Yes! From my _friends_!" Buffy elbowed him hard. "Which is why I still have some. Even with the super power incognito girl deal." She sighed.

He sighed. "Sorry. It's rough, init? This lot." He gestured to a nebulous area surrounding them, encompassing their lives and loves. "With us."

She nodded, then shook her head. "No. It's already rough. You're just part of it- and you make a lot of it better. Actually, you make all of it better." She looked unsmiling into his eyes. "Everything is better without a broken heart."

She just melted him. Big Bad, more like Big Softy. And he didn't care. "C'mere, Heart." He scooped an armful of books up, simultaneously pulling her neck into the crook of his elbow, bringing her in for a snagged, deep kiss. "We can handle this ourselves if we have to. Least until we figure out who to tell and what to tell."

"But the research-"

"Slay on the way home. Do an hour on the books, an' an hour on the bed. Switch off."

"You do have good plans." Buffy conceded with a playful smile.

"I'm always good around you. In a bad sorta way." He nipped her ear.

"I like that." She sighed when he found that certain magical spot behind her lobe. "Knowing you'd be 'good' for me on occasion."

"Oh, Precious." He nibbled the spot once before retreating, leaving her wanting more. "You know I would. An' what I like even better," he tugged her hand in his, watching her swipe Giles' spare key from off the table, the small gleam of silver in the now dark room matching the silver glint of his pale hair and her smoldering eyes, "is knowing you'd be 'bad' for me...on occasion."

* * *

"May the Lord forgive us for this small sin, on this one occasion, that we do in the name of preventing a far greater evil. Amen."

"Amen."

"Bring it up."

"Start the incantation."

Soft chanting filled the darkness, matching the soft golden glow that started off as a tiny pinprick, deep, deep in the darkness, seeming to come from miles back, slowly coming forward, every verse lifting it higher. The glow went from a needle's size to a matchstick flicker, a fist sized flare, and finally, at last, a richly glowing orb that fit snugly into the hands of the eldest monk.

"There is no time to waste." He gasped and winced in pleasure at touching something so purely precious, so powerful. He murmured quietly and the sphere winked out of sight, though his hands still appeared to cradle something.

"To the-"

"Shh. Do not say where."

The trio left, a dark, cloaked processional that moved in silence, not looking back or forward. They moved into the darkness of the cave, deeper and deeper, instead of heading towards the entrance, they moved away from it. The near silent footsteps turned to utter silence, solid forms to shadows, and finally they seemed to disappear altogether. Shadows crossed into a shadow realm, as they had weeks before. Only this time, they were not going with something ethereal, they were traveling with something solid. Essences were able to exit the earthly realm, but human forms were not really able to transverse planes, merely time and space. Only here, in this place, the Cave of Souls, could beings attempt a transversal of this magnitude, souls and bodies finding a portal of their own making. The triad began a holy transportation, bodies _and_ souls this time, carrying something cosmic inside something solid. Just like the Key now resided in flesh.

It would take them time to get there. Unlike most magical teleportations, they carried something of purest good to purest evil, a heavenly artifact to a Hellmouth, and the Hellmouth fought the intrusion.

"This is more difficult. You must focus!"

"I am!" Vincenzo grunted.

"We are!" Matthias howled into the supernatural wind.

"This is not like taking something pure into something purged! These are the direct opposing forces, my sons!"

"How long does this journey take?"

"Who knows? No one's ever done it before!" No one would ever make it again. They would probably not survive the journey themselves. No one ever contended with the combined forces of the Sacred Caves pushing them on one side, and the Hellmouth resisting them on the other.

No matter. In desperate times, many "never"s became "just this once"s. A soul had never been made, newly created, and slipped into a demon. A Slayer had never fought her destiny and become part of a pair, not simply alone.

The Key had never been made flesh. And the Sphere had never been brought to it.

It was still not being brought to it. Not directly.

The Key was encased, hidden in a soul. The soul had a mate. The Key had a Protector. Someone who would fight to the death to save it, save its physical "home".

The Sphere wasn't going to be given to the Key. It was to be given to the Protector.

If they could just get there.

* * *

"They weren't there. Again." Glory stormed from yet another new place, a new bloodstained, body strewn temple of good, back into whatever lavish dwelling she chose. "I'm beginning to think-" she flicked her fingertips free of gore, letting it land on the face of one of her servants, "that certain priests probably shouldn't have been ordained."

The three priests bowed and made their usual signs of homage. "We have been trying, your Magnificence."

"Really? Could I help you try a little harder?" Glory snapped, eyes sizzling, fingertips sparking.

They were hasty to decline. "We have found them- in a manner of speaking."

"Manner of speaking?" She arched one eyebrow.

"Sort of." One of the junior priests tried to clarify.

"Sort of? 'Sort of' don't make trapped goddesses back into Glorious Immortals, boys." Her fingertips sent blue blazes from the tips as she approached, voice thick with a sarcastic, shrewish twang.

"No, your Beauteousness. B-but, you see," the head priest dared beckon her to the ring of purple and red flame he and his two helpers used to search for the monks, "this is the human realm. This earth, it's all represented here."

"So? What are all the little red dots? They can't be in all those places."

"Those are the 'flares', your Worshipped One, hot spots of great goodness and light and purity. The places we've been traveling to."

"Then how come every time we land on one of your 'flares', it's monk free? Or at least free of the monks I _want?"_

"It- it's very hard to see clearly. We understand your frustration, your Blessed Evilness,-"

"No, but you're getting close to a taste of it." She interrupted with a dark, twisted smile.

He carried on, voice higher and more tense, "- only usually the flares have other smaller flares beside them, as we scry for the specific souls of the monks of the order who stand against you. The evidence of pure souls is barely discernible in so much goodness. That is why we search for them in these 'flare spots', but can rarely see them. They must keep moving, or perhaps they have been too well camouflaged."

"Okay, then why are there no little dots in the goody-goody puddles today?" She peered more closely at the map he showed her. "I'm a thousand times more powerful than you, and these eyes say there are_ no_ little dots 'camouflaged' or moving around in here. Why are there no little dots _at all_?" She demanded accusingly.

"I think there is only one explanation."

It just so happened that he was guessing correctly. His previous supposition had been accurate enough, the monks had been hidden, or moving between hiding spots that cloaked their presence. However, at that moment, Glory's leading priest had one of those "happy accidents" that befall human and demonkind sometimes.

"Well? Spit it out. Or I can just yank your tongue out, cut it into pretty little triangles and make myself a necklace." Glory snapped her fingers under his chin threateningly.

His preamble was quickly concluded. "They are off the map. Off this 'radar', to use a human term. They are someplace out of this realm, but yet they must be in it, as they are after all, mere mortals."

"Get to the point." She nodded, motioning him on, leaning forward eagerly.

"They must be in a place with so much purity that it absorbs the impurity of-" he wrinkled his already wrinkled and putrid looking nose, "human. They're not merely hidden- they're consumed."

There was a chorus of "Ahhhh" from the minions in the chamber as they heard this explanation. Everyone waited for Glorificus' reaction.

It was not long in coming, nor was it very congratulatory. "And those consuming places are...?"

Momentarily put off, the priest coughed and then answered, "There are only a few, Mighty Glorificus, the Ear of the Ancients, the Sacred Cave of Souls, and the Deeper Well."

Now there was a reaction. "The Deeper Well? That's where the 'cast off' gods and goddess wait, isn't it? The big old eternal bedchamber. Where I was denied access!" She grit her teeth in fury.

"You refused to sleep, Supreme One." Jinx pointed out timidly.

"Damn right I did! I don't want to take a nap, I want my power back! And I'll _have_ it! This world is just the first shiny little bauble on the crown of planets and galaxies that I'll be wearing on my reinstated head. Just the first of those that are going to pay for trying to destroy me and then putting me in so many little pockets of oblivion that it's taken a millennium's worth of millenniums to put me into this rotting shroud!" She was shaking now, clutching her hair and pulling handfuls of it out. "They'll see! They'll pay. All of them! Take me to the Deeper Well! Now! _Now_!"

"We- can't." The chief priest dared to mention.

"What?" Her screech, coupled with her stomp, cracked the marble floor she stood on and shattered several windows as well.

"O-only a good soul, a truly good soul can call forth the Knights who open the doorway, oh Most Understanding One."

"But- that has to be where they are. It's too perfect, that has to be- has to- erghhhhh." Her torrent of words was stemmed with a desperate heave and she doubled up and lay on her side as her form twisted and converted.

Her minions dared to sigh, in relief if they were honest. Their mistress in a temper was deadly. This writhing, twitching form on the other hand, was merely a boy, so blessed and yet so ungrateful for this blessing, the gift of being the Vessel.

Jinx leaned over the agonized being, an idea striking him. "Master Ben. Your sister would like you to do a little favor for her."

"N-no." He shook his head and resisted the attentive hands helping him up.

"Master Ben- it will save your sister's life."

"I don't care."

"She'll die, very shortly, a matter of months, without your help."

"Good. She should." The boy spat, shaking as he sat up, brushing their hands away.

"You will die with her."

"I'm only half alive now." He snorted with more courage than he had.

"Half alive is better than fully dead." Jinx smiled gently.

Fear warred within him, fear and knowledge. Fear won. It always won. He whispered in a scratched, thin voice, "What does she need me to do?"

_To be continued..._


	5. Part IV

**Unknown **

**By Sweetprincipale**

_This is set in my non-canon, but canon-esque series following Uncontrollable and Unmentionable. If you haven't read those first, please do, or this won't read nearly as well or make much sense. Unknown begins a few weeks after the end of Unmentionable, around the beginning of season five._

_Author's Note: Smut warning. Also, this is a purely Spuffy /introspection chapter. Lotsof mush, lots of discussion. Skim if you'd like, we're back to some plot movement next chapter._

_Author's second note- Picks up immediately from where the last chapter ended._

_Dedicated to: ginar369, rororogers, omslagspapper, Edward Cullen Brings Sexy Back, The Three March Hares, and ShyL._

_Direct Quotes are obviously not mine, but belong to the fabulously talented and creative people who wrote them. In this case, some of season five's dialogue will be used. _

_**Disclaimer: Nothing of Buffy belongs to me, except my sincere admiration. However, this story is all mine.**_

**Part IV**

"I just had another interesting thought." Spike remarked.

Buffy panted and rolled her neck to bring her head out of the nest of pillows. "Is this a sex thought or a book-related thought? Because this is a sex-slash-nap hour."

"Hmm hmm." He laughed through a sultry smile as he kicked off their sheets and then moved, naked form over smaller prone form, easing himself down gently, knowing she could take his weight. Knowing in fact, that she welcomed it, he could press her supernatural strength to the point where she genuinely "felt something". One of the reasons they were so good together. "Comfy?"

"Mmmm, Spike blanket." Buffy sighed and put her head to the side so he could kiss her cheek.

"Much as I hate to stop where this is heading, it is a book-related thought." His hands playfully laced with hers, keeping her snared under him. "But I claim the right to tell you about it _now_, since you were the one who-"

"I said I was sorry!" She groaned.

"-cried out 'Oh, yes, yes, yes Spike'-" he imitated her orgasmic crescendo, and then let his voice fall with a thud, "then went 'Oh look, there's my pink pen, it's behind the candles.'" He glared and jutted his hardness against her. "Way to make a chap feel special, Luv."

"I was wondering where it went earlier and my mind was all buzzed and relaxed and I saw it." She blushed and ground her hips back into his. "Can I help it if totally have out of mind, or out of body experiences- when you're in me, and you're so good that I don't even know what I'm saying?" She flattered and explained simultaneously.

"That's true. You babble sometimes."

"Oh thank you very much." She said wryly.

"You mentioned it!"

She shrugged, under him, voice now resolutely changing the subject. "Besides, I think I made up for my one tiny little distraction comment." Buffy wriggled pointedly against him.

"Oh, I agree. But I gotta give you a hard time." Hardness sank between her cheeks, nudging a tight little valley and making her jump, then nudging into her warm, dripping split.

"Such a bad pun. That's almost Xander worthy." She moaned and arched her spine as the tip pushed into her.

"Ah ah ah! No X-word." He groaned and bit her shoulder lightly.

"You like when I'm X-rated." She teased.

"Oh God. Now who's bad? Do I have to keep your mouth busy?" He lifted his pushing pelvis and wrapped strong fingers around her elbow to pull her onto her back, effectively shutting her mouth by filling it with a sinfully talented tongue.

"I love you, you know." She finally gasped when his lips left hers.

"I know."

She waited. She arched an eyebrow and then pouted.

He caved. It was no hardship, he'd been waiting to say this, waiting to feel this, for his whole life and then some. "I love you so much." He breathed out.

For someone so innocent looking, and so genuinely sweet acting, he had to admit she surprised him sometimes. Only sometimes, when the world got locked out of her brain and she was purely a woman alone with her man.

Times like now. Pulling him down flat to her, so their bodies were one two-toned curve of flesh, one hand in his hair, the other on one his sharply carved hip. She held him into her, like she never wanted to let him go.

The intensity took his breath away- well, would have if he'd any naturally generated breath to start. "Buffy..."

"I wish we _were_ key and lock sometimes." She scrunched her muscles tightly up and down on his member, pleasing them both with a grip that made them gasp together. "That- that I could just kind of be the thing that holds you and when you were in me, it was all safe for you. And when you were in me- everything would just magically open up and walls could come down or fall away or whatever." She told him in a wistful but sincere voice.

He shook his head at her. "An' you don't see that already happenin', Heart?"

She blinked. Then smiled, eyes lighting up, lighting him up.

"I call bookwork postponed until you're as open as you want." He lipped her grinning mouth.

"I'm good with that."

* * *

"You taste so bloody _good_!" Spike restrained himself from biting down on any of the soft, fleshy parts before him. He settled for diving in again, tongue and lips, fingers, no teeth, just slurping, sucking, mouthing. He had no restraint whatsoever about _that_.

"Thank you." A severely winded sounding voice replied. "But can't people have heart attacks from this much sex?" She felt like she was going to explode, the pleasure was radiating all over her, hips to chest. She figured something was about to burst, and the heart seemed logical.

His head popped up from between her thighs. "Your heartbeat's fine. Just fast. Like a hummingbird's. Only I don't think-" he gently wedged a third finger in her opening and watched her spasm and bear down with a needy squeak, "that they make that sort of noise."

"Ahh ahhhh, well- oh _crap_..." She shuddered.

"Too much?" He usually didn't do this additional finger in her tight little honey hole, since usually after two she was making noises that preempted anything but nailing her to the nearest surface and passionately smothering her with himself.

"No...We said as open as I want and -oh, oh, oh, oh..." Her train of thought derailed as the stretching sensation coupled with three stroking fingertips on her already over sensitized pleasure center overloaded her brain. That was one third more than her nerve endings usually handled. She was heading into that wonderful out of body high. "Oh, yes, yes..."

"You say one word about pens this time and I'll bite your thigh. _Hard_." Spike propped himself up to look into her fluttering eyes.

"Get up here and get back inside!" She cried frantically, pushing out on his hand and clawing him up, fingers scratching at his shoulder.

"That's better."

"I'd threaten to bite _you_, but you'd just tell me how much you like it." She groaned as the fingers and talented mouth left her and something much harder and fiercer shifted back inside.

"I'd like anything you do to me. Just like bein' with you."

Funny, they both thought, that in the midst of all the blindingly hot sex, the thing that sent her over the edge was just a couple casual words.

_Must be love._

* * *

"Must be killin' him." Spike muttered, flipping through another book, dark brows lowered, finger moving over complicated latin passages.

"Shhhhhh." Buffy rolled over. "Sleep."

"I'm not tired."

"You get to nap during the day."

"I didn't get to say this earlier. You distracted me. _Again_." He reminded her with playful accusation.

_And before it happens one more time..._She pushed herself to her knees and swung off the bed. "Oh God... I have to get up and get home." Buffy padded from their bed to their bathroom, sleep-deprived mind having moments of wigged-outness and happiness intertwined. Secretly they had something that was "theirs". Part of her mind said it was really only "his", as long as it was a secret, as long as she couldn't claim it like she wanted to, but she largely ignored that little nagging voice. "I'm going to rinse off- and no, you can't join me, it leads back to requiring more showers."

"I got it." Spike chuckled and flipped another page, thinking the librarian would just about die if he knew his precious dusty books were laying on sheets that had recently been covering up slayer and vampire copulation. Which brought him back to the thought that kept coming up and then not being voiced. "Slayer?"

"Yeah?"

"Giles keeps lending us books, but hasn't been asking us about what we're doin' with 'em. Not much at all."

"No... he has. He knows all about me reading Watcher Diaries and histories of famous Slayers and stuff, and learning to understand auras and radiant powers and things like that." She called over the trickling of water.

"But that's not what we're looking up!"

"It is sometimes!"

"As a group, yeah. But how do you explain that we borrowed-" he flipped the book over and looked at the title, " _The Guide to Demon Metaphysical States_? What's that come under the heading of?"

"Uhhhh..."

"You see my point." Spike stood up and stretched.

"We can put it back before he knows it's gone."

"You put the key back through the mail slot."

"Damn."

There was silence as he found some clothes for each of them, and he ignored the ache in his stomach. He would go up and grab some blood once she was ready to go with him. He begrudged the time apart, even little moments of it, not used to sharing a lover with friends and family, even the sunlight itself. But better than sharing her with wanderlust and other suitors.

"Hey, Spike?"

"Yes, Luv?"

"Do you remember Giles pulling us to the side that day after the Bronze?"

"Can you be more specific? There've been a lot of days after the Bronze since we've been 'outed'." He buckled his belt with a snort.

"The first time. When he went all big serious face and said he supported us and everything was of the strangely obnoxious but good?"

"Yes, the fatherly speech."

"He said something at the end, 'You two will do so much good together, you'll help so many.' Or maybe it was 'so much' twice."

"It doesn't matter. Maybe he just wanted you to feel better. He knew I was playin' ball."

"What if he knows why?"

Spike stopped in mid bootlace. "He _does_ know why. Because_ I love you_. I thought you said what I had added in or taken out-"

Buffy emerged hurriedly, loosely wrapped in a trailing towel, eyes rampantly apologetic. "I know! I understand that, it's for love, and it's totally not about anything but you and me." She soothed. His brow remained dark. "All I meant was- what if he knows we're going to do so much good together because the dream showed him stuff? Stuff about the chip or the key or the -soul?" Her voice dropped, along with her chin. "Sorry. I'm not saying this right."

"Probably because neither one of us can figure out _how_ to say it right." He licked his lips and rested his finger underneath her cheekbone, gently lifting her face back up. "Seems like a little conversation with him would be good, Pet."

She bit her lip. "If we do this, and something goes wrong and you die on me- I'll kill you."

He hugged her tight, briefly. "Am I at least upgraded to a nice silver urn?"

She pretended to think hard. "Brass. All shiny." She finally smiled.

He put the books in his arm and began climbing the ladder. "Make you some cocoa?"

"Yes, please. I better hurry up though. I should get home before Mom has a cow, and when Giles finds out about my weird choice of books, I guess I can use that as a discussion starter with him. For the discussion I really don't want to have. Ooh boy. Big life altering secrets to Giles, or my Mom finding me coming back in with a hickey? Pick my executioner." She clutched her stomach as it bubbled anxiously.

"Oh, Pet, try to calm down. You might not have to worry about either one."

"No, I'm pretty sure I do."

"Unless your mum and Rupes are still havin' a late night of it at your neither one is going to find out about hickeys or books. Not at the moment. Not if they're too busy bein' 'distracted'."

Buffy scrambled into her clothes and up after him at Slayer speed, all for the purpose of slapping him hard on the arm.

"Hey!"

"Don't say stuff like that!" Buffy looked a little green at the prospect. "Old people sex..."

"Hundred fifty." Spike muttered under a very fake cough.

"Okay, I withdraw the 'old' part. But Mom and Giles- I refuse to think about this."

"I don't think your mum wants to think about you with me, either, but it happens."

"She doesn't have to _know_ it's happening though." _How can I do that? I _love _him! How can I say that to him? How can I tell Mom to trust him with her life, but can't say I'm dating him? _

_ And I'm not just _dating _him. I'm _with _him. Good or bad, right or wrong, soul or not, better or worse, sickness and - oh shit!_

"Buffy? Buffy?" He gave her a quizzical look, her face having just passed through about three degrees of guilt and then completely gobsmacked.

"I'm sorry. I'm trying. I keep saying I'm trying, and you probably can't tell I am, but I _am_." She said desperately.

"Whoa, Slayer. I know you are. It's not easy. Not the ideal candidate for a boyfriend, am I?" _Boyfriend._ It was all he could do not to snort out loud. _A boyfriend was someone who courted the girl an' held her hand. I'm her everything, her end game, her beginning. We rearrange our lives for each other, hell, they've rearranged my brain and inner bits and bobs for her. Right, wrong, good, evil- sod it all. Just give us each other._

"You're the perfect boyfriend. For _me_. Not for my mom." Buffy sighed. _No one's perfect according to her. I'm sure not. Even Riley, Mr. Normalcy went totally abnormal and she'd have kicked his little green army butt._

"Well, that's good, because your mum is lovely, but I don't fancy her. Her perfect boyfriend is someone who loves you like a dad an' trains you like a prizefighter an' has some sweet weaponry alongside the Wheatabix."

She smiled in acknowledgement. "I know. Giles rocks the boyfriend option for my mom. Oh God, that just feels weird saying. But he's awesome and he cares about me. I think he cares about her, too."

" 'Course he does."

There was a little luftpause as both of them attended to the banalities of life- her cocoa, his blood, her shoes, her purse- the thoughts in their own heads.

_Things are serious. Well, that's our theme song, isn't it?_ _But_ _this is a different kind of serious. On multiple levels._

"Giles knows about us. I mean, not everything, but probably more than I really want him to." Buffy blushed as Spike handed her the cup of instant chocolate.

"He's a Watcher. He observes." Spike shrugged. "Not ashamed, are we?"

"No! No no no." She denied. "I just don't want to have to choose. Between my mom making an ultimatum and you."

"I wouldn't ask you to choose." He said softly._ I'd be your secret. You'd be mine. Like we were before. Silly bint, does she think I'd care? As long as she told me she loved me and showed me like she does?_

"No. But I'd still choose you."

He wasn't stunned, but he was speechless anyway.

"You don't have to. Don't even have to get to that point, Pet."

"No. I think I do have to. To tell her. I don't know what she'll say. She'll yell. Probably."

"She's gotta have at least an idea, Luv."

"Spike." She fixed him with a gimlet eyed stare. "My mom lived in total denial of my entire LIFE for three years. My sleeping and/or not sleeping patterns of one summer are probably not tipping her off at all." She winced.

"There's more, Slayer. I hang out with you lot. Bump into her on occasion. We hint, they hint. There's hints."

"The prom queen suddenly turning into a juvie and setting a gym on fire is a pretty big hint." She made a swooshing motion over her head. "No clickage."

He tried not to laugh, and she did make a valid point. He'd met her mother the first time while leading a small army of vampires, and aside from the fire ax to the head, Joyce seemed to believe the demons around her were gang members on PCP. "I know she's human, Luv, and humans have ways to gloss over what they don't want to see- but she _has_ to have noticed everyone isn't trying to stake me." He preened slightly. "Red even brought me some more burba weed on Friday morning before her class and Demon Gal and I had coffee on Tuesday. Talked about the twenty greatest massacres of the millennium. D' you know we were actually at a few of the same ones, just in different parts of the crowd?"

"You- what?" Buffy blinked. "Never mind. Mom and her oblivion-wear wasn't the only thing I was thinking about. The thing is- keeping secrets from friends and family, yeah that's hard. But keeping secrets from the person you're trying to be with?" _Not telling Riley I was a slayer until we're fighting monsters right next to each other, Angel not telling me about being a vampire until he vamped right in front of me... Giles and Ms. Calendar..._ She shook her head rapidly. "It makes it so hard. I've done it. Giles and Ms. Calendar did it. That went to whole new levels of bad."

"What are you tryin' to say, Buffy?"

"I told Giles not to tell my Mom about us. But that makes him keep a huge secret from her, and he's trying to start something with her, he's at least dating her. It's hard enough for me, but it's probably driving him crazy, too."

"Sweetie, if you and your slayerettes haven't driven him mad yet, he's not gonna go round the twist from this."

"He never had to deal with _you_ on such a regular basis before, though." Buffy pointed out, not entirely kidding. "Or my mom. My mom _and_ you. Oh God. Poor Giles!"

"Oi!"

"Shut up and drink your blood." She said distractedly. He scowled at her over the rim of his mug and drank. "Sorry. Brain kablooie. Stress. Forgive me?"

In a hundred and almost fifteen years Dru'd never once asked for his forgiveness. Not for infidelity. Not for abandonment. Not for shaggin' someone he hated right under his nose._ And Slayer snaps at me a bit and apologizes. Hell, we insult an' shout an' sometimes throw punches. Foreplay. Banter. Mmm. Foreplay. _

"I know one way to make you relax..." He gave her a playful leer and ran a hand over her hip.

"I guess that means you forgive me." She let out a sigh.

"Always. Unless you leave."

"I won't leave!" She rolled her eyes. "I'm not going anywhere. And neither are you. That's the way we roll."

"Absolutely." He drained his drink and put it down. "Takes a lot to get rid of us. Unstoppable."

"Don't jinx us. Every time I think I get the hang of the slayage-life combo, we get some new big baddie in Sunnydale."

"But you've got me now."

"Yes, and you're a _helpful_ Big Bad." She pouted up at him, a sparkle in her tired eyes.

"Still- maybe that's enough to keep the other helltrash away, right, Luv?"

"I hope so."

* * *

"Hope his car's gone this time." Spike muttered through a mouthful of smoke as they turned the corner.

"This time?" Her eyes suddenly burned into him.

"Oh. Uh..."

"Spike!" Buffy gasped. "He did not!"

"I-uh - so when are you going to tell your mum? Do you want me to be with you? Or is that a solo thing?"

"You can't change the subject like that!" Buffy hissed fiercely.

"Can I plead the fifth?"

"No! The constitution- that's from the constitution right?" She paused in mid-step.

He looked heavenward long sufferingly. "Yes." _Add American civics to the list._

"- is for living American citizens and you are dead British guy!" She punched him smartly on the arm as they walked.

"In that case, all I saw was-"

"Ooooh, I knew it!" Buffy didn't let him finish. "She was still wearing the same clothes and she had a Giles-y smell on her and- and- wait, that makes no sense."

"I agree." He muttered, having lost her train of thought.

"She didn't have him here, she stayed over_ there_! He must have dropped her off."

"She is a grown woman, Luv, and I only saw him 'cause I was droppin' you-"

"She is so totally busted. I mean, I was suspicious, but now I _know_. Because you saw him leave, right?"

"Ah-"

"I knew it!"

He shook his head. _Unstoppable alright. In so many ways._

* * *

Unstoppable- but not fearless. Buffy tried to talk to her mother that morning, only to find herself silenced by the sight of the woman sipping coffee. Glowing. Simply beaming.

"Hi Honey." Joyce smiled.

"Hi." Buffy looked at her mom, then the microwave clock. "Uh- shouldn't you be at work?"

"Mr. Giles is opening the store for me today." She smiled with a faint blush. "You know, Buffy, I didn't give him a fair chance the first time I met him."

"I- uh-" _If I agree, and point out that I've said that for three years, I'm probably grounded. Which is sad, considering I'm legally an adult._ "Well, you guys are hanging out now, right? A-and liking it?"

Joyce flushed. "He's wonderful. I see why you like him."

"Good. That's great, Mom. You know, um- other people might also need a second look, because," she tried to keep her voice laughing and light, "people can change-" _No! Not change, not change like 'soul change', but 'for love change'. But he's a demon and a monster and people think they can't love, but Spike's different, and - and- oh poop. Back to the 'he's a vampire but he's different' speech. Not a winner in the Summers' household._

"What was that, Buffy? Oh, my pills." Joyce passed the bottles on the edge of the counter and found herself distracted from Buffy's incomplete thought.

"Pills?"

"For the headaches. It's probably some early signs of a sinus infection."

"Aw, poor Mom." _I can't tell her all this big stuff now. She's all smiley and happy. She's not feeling well, and she's on painkillers. Actually this might be a _really_ good time to tell her. _

"What were you saying, Sweetie, I'm sorry?" Joyce asked, shaking out two pills into her palm.

"People. Sometimes you should give them a second look." Buffy tried to reopen the discussion with a casual voice.

"Mm," Joyce swallowed her medicine with her orange juice and nodded, "I know. You don't have to sell me on him."

"I don't?" Buffy said slowly. _We're still on Giles, aren't we?_

"Nope. He's... oh. He's just the kind of person I'm really glad to have in my life. You know, he was here until 2:00 in the morning, watching old comedies with me, and he still said he wanted me to stay home this morning and get some rest? He doesn't say much or show it easily, but under all that demure exterior is a man who puts the important people in his life first."

_Yup. Still on Giles. _"Yeah, Mom. He totally is like that." _I have a similar type of guy. Just wrapped in leather and sneers instead of tweed and big words._ "I'm glad he makes you happy. So. Is this boyfriend-ly?"

Joyce put her glass down and gave Buffy a very solemn look. "Would that bother you?"

"No! God, no!" Buffy shook her head. "Everyone should have someone great in their lives. Especially great people." She leaned across the kitchen island and kissed her mom on the cheek. "Just try not to make out in front of me?" She shivered.

"I make no promises." Joyce smirked teasingly. Her eyes drifted past Buffy, prompting her to exclaim, "It's so late!" She put her glass in the sink and darted past Buffy, into the hall, retrieving her purse and stepping into her pumps.

Buffy followed her, a vaguely troubled expression on her face.

"Sorry, Sweetie, did you want to talk more? Is this thing about Mr. Giles and me bothering you just a little?" Joyce asked with concern, holding up her thumb and forefinger about an inch apart.

Buffy smiled bravely and cheerfully, shaking her head emphatically. "Digging the Giles, Mom. We can talk later, when you're not in a rush. Have a great day, and sell lots of stuff."

"Thank you, Honey." Joyce reached out and stroked her daughter's cheek quickly. "I'll tell him you said you were okay with us, except for making out." She winked and they both smiled, little half-laughs escaping, before they parted ways.

Buffy sighed as she locked the door after her mom. Then perked up. "Ooh. I can get the books back onto the shelves if I ambush him when he comes home."

She hurried up the stairs. Great. _Two conversations I really need to have- totally avoided. Oh God. I'm turning into my mother..._

* * *

"You wimped out."

"You didn't mention anything either!"

"All of your little cronies were there!"

"My mom can freak me out just as much as my friends freak you out."

"I was not 'freaked out'."

They walked around the nearly deserted campus in the darkness, having a hissing argument, now stalled.

"What Willow wants to do might answer all the questions anyway." Buffy said uncomfortably.

"It sounds like arts and crafts to me." Spike muttered.

"That's because you didn't think of it first."

"No, it's because it involves scissors and glue." He groused.

* * *

The research slash discussion slash eating subs from the deli slash yet more Dracula-retellings (turned out Anya'd met him a few times as well) had not been exactly fruitful. Buffy and Spike had tried a handful of subtle gambits to get the conversation to where they wanted it to be, casting significant looks at Xander and Giles. If they saw them, they feigned obliviousness or it was genuine. The constant little hints did finally prompt Willow to say that hearing about the shared dreams and even re-reading all the notes she'd taken and that Giles had transcribed more cohesively into this Watcher journals wasn't helping them see the big picture. Aside from choosing love, she blushingly added, taking Tara's hand.

So, the solution? Literally make a big picture. Or at least a big chart.

"All the dreams have some of the same information and the same people in them, but they have all the different details." Anya leapt onto her train of thought.

"It's like looking at a puzzle spread out on different tables." Tara nodded.

"We can sort of line them up and then maybe it'll click!" Willow cried.

The four other guests in the room nodded, trying to raise enthusiasm.

None of them could quite muster it. It was a great idea. Except for one thing, and all four of them knew it.

_You can put the puzzle together, but it still won't make a complete picture. Not if I'm holding back some of the pieces._

None of them felt able to say that at that moment however, and since the task was overwhelming and seemingly not urgent, the discussion gave way to dinner.

* * *

"You hungry?" Buffy asked finally, tired of walking in semi-grumpy, semi-companionable silence.

"Nah, Rupes has been very thoughtful about keeping a few bags for me." Spike put his arm through hers with a sigh. And then turned her around.

"Where are we going?"

"Your place."

"What?" Buffy's heels dug in.

"Your place."

"But- why? Don't you want me to sleep over? Are you mad about not talking to Giles? 'Cause I know he said he was 'rather exhausted' and going right to bed, but we could go back and wake him up if you think we need to talk to him right now."

"I didn't mean that."

"Good. Because it takes a lot for Giles to admit to 'quite tired' but 'rather exhausted'- that's the mega sleepy and borderline man-bitchy."

"Give you that. Seems unfocused, like he couldn't settle."

"He's worried about my mom."

"Oh?"

"She has a sinus infection."

"Poor Joyce." Spike tugged on his lover, setting her walking again. "We're heading to your place. Both of us."

"Why?" Heels entrenched themselves in turf once more.

"We mentioned alternating places when we spend the night but we never did. Never do. You're sneaking in in the middle of the night, not sleepin', an' worryin' yourself to death about gettin' caught. This way all you have to do is let me have a chance to sneak out."

"That's really thoughtful, Spike." Buffy smiled at him. Then shook her head. "But it's still no."

He frowned. "Alright."

"My mom is going to find us- we're _loud_, Spike." Buffy touched his darkened face with her fingertips. "I do want to tell her, but I want a better intro than, 'Hi, Mom, sorry my new boyfriend and I woke you up with our insanely good loud sex noises. And oh hey, the new boyfriend is Spike.'"

"Fair enough." He chuckled. "So we'll just finish patrol and then we'll kip. I don't have to stay the whole night." Still looking unconvinced, he sighed, "We don't always have to do a bit of the bump and grind, Slayer."

"But we always do." She let he hand wander from his face to the back of his neck, tangling in his hair. "It's too tempting." She winked. And it was. It was something they could give into, something she'd never known she'd wanted, after two horrifically bad ending one night stands, and then Riley's lackluster performance, finding Spike was like letting her body wake up. Heart and body, slayer and sweet young woman, all of them were raring to go. She loved him and loved showing it physically. "I thought you'd be getting all swaggery because I called you tempting?" She raised herself on tiptoe to kiss him.

"Inside I am." He assured her, kissing her back. "We can take a night off though- or almost off."

"There is no way that would work." Buffy let her hand wander down and could feel that just in the course of their innocent kiss and back and forth, he was hardening.

"Have a little faith in us," he caught her hand, "you don't know what we can do until we try."

"That's true." She let him pull her along.

_What the hell? We walk into the Hellmouth and hellish stuff all the time. Walking into my house- and possibly my mother- couldn't be that bad._

_ At least she won't turn into a big snake. _

_ I hope._

* * *

"I'll meet you at your window in a few." Spike whispered as they crossed her lawn.

"Be careful. Don't fall."

"I'm a vampire." Spike snorted. "I'm a silent, catlike shadow."

"Who wears huge clunky boots. I repeat, be careful."

"Yes, Mummy." He griped and shooed her inside. Once she was gone, he was all swift motions and lithe springs, from ground to branch, to branch, to eaves, to windowsill, and there he waited, until she pushed open the window. "Like a ruddy piece of moonlight, me." He bragged in a whisper.

"Yay, you. Can you tell if my mom woke up?" Buffy hissed.

He cocked his head. "Deep sleep. Nice, slow, steady pulse and breathing. More than I can say for you." He stroked her hair as they stood in the darkness of her room. Her breathing was unsteady, her pulse rushing along. Just touching her he could feel her skin flushing. "You really that scared of her catching us? I can leave. I'm a pushy sort of bastard, but not when it comes to a few things. One of 'em is you."

"Never leave." She breathed out shakily, and grabbed his head in her suddenly anxious hands, bad memories and good memories layered on top of each other. Angel sneaking in to make out with her, under her mom's nose, she and Spike making love here, alone in the house while her mom was on buying trips. Angel's inability to resist carnal urges for her, prompting him to leave her completely, and Spike's simple preference of spending time with her, allowing her to just have him at her side. "I love you, and I'm sorry I wig over little things."

"This isn't a little thing." His mouth moved against hers, then down her neck, hands going around her back and shoulders, kneading, hungry. "You're the biggest thing in my world."

Her hands caressed his back, curling and massaging, until the shirt worked up under her fingers and she could feel his skin. Just skin to skin, that would be enough, wouldn't it? Just here with her, that was enough.

Nonetheless, kissing continued, hot and intense, shirts pulled free and then pants slid down, until they were on her bed, wrapped together.

"What happens next?" Buffy asked something that kept nagging her.

"I think we better stop here, or get something in the line of gags. I'm not fond of 'em myself, but-"

"Spike!"

"No, you're right, I can be quiet. Honestly, just never done too much of it, but I'm sure we can manage it."

"What happens next, to us?" She winced. _This is like the commitment talk, only there can't be a "commitment" and we're already committed as it gets, at least on the soul and heart level. And if I keep thinking like this, I'll end up committed in a different way. Which is bad... _"Never mind, sorry, stupid teenage girly thought."

"You mean do we date until you graduate an' then you move to Paris and we exchange Christmas cards or somethin'?" He whispered with a soft, dry chuckle. "I don't think so, Slayer."

"I didn't think so either."

"You an' me are gonna always be together. And when you're gone-" His voice, even in a hush, suddenly thickened , "I'm going too. Simple as that."

Simple. Choose love. It should feel simple, even if it's not, wasn't that what she and Willow had said that day they parted ways at the dorm? Together for always, and when she was gone- well, you can't live without a heart, and she was his. Boiled down like that, it was perfectly clear. Always.

"I like that." She murmured.

He hugged her up to his chest, and inhaled her scent, bodies coiled but not interlocked sexually. Didn't need to be. Just needed to be together. So simple. Such a comforting thought in the midst of so much stress. With a double sigh, they let themselves fall deeper and deeper into each other.

They had no trouble keeping quiet after all.

* * *

"Spike?" Buffy sat up, hair falling in front of her sleepy eyes.

"I was tryin' to slip out, nice and quiet." Spike zipped up his jeans and sat back on the edge of the bed.

"Mmm, already? It's still dark." Buffy caught his hand, sitting up herself, sheet clutched over her bare torso.

"Didn't know what time your mum woke up." He whispered. "Didn't want to make you all twitchy again."

"It's not you."

"Oh, please, Luv." He disagreed.

"It's not!" She kept her hand wrapped around his, eyes pleading in the dark. "I was thinking about Angel and-"

"Bloody hell..." Spike groaned, sotto voce.

"I'm not comparing, I was remembering. Talk about bad boyfriend situations. Talk about bad Mom/boyfriend interactions." She shuddered.

"Your mum an' I haven't exactly had the best interactions either, but I think she's over it. I haven't caught an axe to the cranium. Or even a dirty look."

"I know, really, but I haven't exactly ever been honest about the guys I like. Including now." She put her chin on her knees, eyes still looking up at him. "I mean, when you were dating, didn't you ever-" she stopped and shook her head, " no, that's right. You weren't the smooth studly guy you are now. So you _say_." She smiled at him briefly. "Different time period, too."

He didn't look at her eyes, he looked at her hand, several shades darker than his pale skin, her thumb under his, little squeezes combined with the natural beat of her pulse. A part of him now. Words just seemed to come out around her. "I brought Dru home to meet my mum." He finally mumbled to her clasping fingers.

"You did?" Her eyebrows flew upward. "Wait- I thought you only met Dru when she turned you."

"That's right." He let her see a hint of a sardonic smile.

Her eyebrows prepared for independent flight. "Oh. Wow. How'd that go?"

"Badly." He answered sharply.

It was a tone of voice she didn't hear, it had serious undercurrents, and it was blunt and brief. Spike was rarely anything approaching "brief". "Do you want to talk about-"

"No." The sharp voice turned harsh, and seemed to ring in the silence. They both twitched and look around anxiously. His tone softened. "Not just yet. Maybe someday."

"I understand." _Wow. _Wow._ I don't know whether to be freaked out or impressed that he did that. He knew what Drusilla was, what she did, and he still thought enough of her to take her home and show her off to his mom. Wow._

"That was either a really nice thing or a really stupid thing."

"Both actually." _But the stupidity was more on my part than Dru's._ He winced again.

"I think it sounds kind of brave though." _Braver than I'm being. Heart on his sleeve guy. Love's bitch. He loved her, he took her home, like his prize. He's my prize and I hide him._

"Brave an' stupid look alike on me sometimes." He admitted.

"This going to kill me to say- but it looks a lot alike on me too."

Spike fell back to the bed with a soft laugh, his head in her lap, gazing up at her face and the golden hills she exposed as well. "Good fit, aren't we?"

"In a scary way- yes." She bent, touching forehead to forehead. She pressed a kiss to his lips. "I'm sorry I don't get the cosmic remote, so I can just rewind and walk in the front door with you for the first time. Show you off, all proud of you, like I am. Not of what you are or what you do- just glad you love me like I want to be loved."

"Honey, if you rewound- I wouldn't be the kind of man you'd want to introduce."

_Smart guy._ Her hands went down, around his chiseled jaw, and his hands came up, pulling her down as they laced together in back of her head.

"No matter what I'm too scared to do, or not doing yet- doesn't mean I love you less."

Spike rolled onto her urgently, still speaking in a tense whisper. "Of course not! Don't be stupid." He said furiously. "I know you love me, an' know that isn't changing." Bowed heads locked lips once more, souls mated.

Inner powers, light and dark couldn't speak in this state, but they felt the comfort of another's presence, they seemed to radiate one thought between them.

_Everything changes. Except love. _

To be continued...


	6. Part V

**Unknown **

**By Sweetprincipale**

_This is set in my non-canon, but canon-esque series following Uncontrollable and Unmentionable. If you haven't read those first, please do, or this won't read nearly as well or make much sense. Unknown begins a few weeks after the end of Unmentionable, around the beginning of season five._

_Author's Note: No big revelations yet, but don't worry- you know I have a plan. Plus everyone is clamoring for updates, and I thank each and every one of you for it!_

_Dedicated to: ginar369, rororogers, omslagspapper, MMWillow, Alexiarrose, Sirius120, Rosalea12, MaireAilbhe, ShyL, Mike13z50, Cavementftw, and The Three March Hares._

_Direct Quotes are obviously not mine, but belong to the fabulously talented and creative people who wrote them. In this case, some of season five's dialogue will be used. _

_**Disclaimer: Nothing of Buffy belongs to me, except my sincere admiration. However, this story is all mine.**_

**Part V**

"There's a Jackie Chan movie showing tonight."

"I like Bruce Lee better."

"You have no sense of humor."

"I do. It's more 'witty', less like "ducking a cream pie" humor though."

"Are you saying I'm not 'sophisticated'?"

"No. A bit."

A pillow hit him hard across the face.

"Don't you dare start a pillow fight, Slayer. I consented to share a room with a stuffed animal, but a pillow fight is where I draw the line."

She sighed and snuggled closer to the cool chest, finger tracing the center of his sculpted body. "I like this."

Spike tucked his human hot water bottle closer to him with a low purr, "I do too."

"You were right." A small frown pushed her lips out and down.

"I was? Naturally." He preened, then considered. " 'Bout what this time?"

"He and I weren't friends."

A frown crossed his face as well. "Sorry." He couldn't deny it. His hand rested over hers now, catching it against his hollow chest.

"It's okay." She smiled up at him. "It's not like I'm having big heavy thoughts, I was just thinking- there were nights we spent together, and they weren't like this. With the talking and the laughing." The smile twisted. "He wasn't much of a conversationalist."

"Not the good version, I'll give you that. The other side -never mind." Angelus' taunts and constant hectoring flitted across his mind, and he brushed it away.

"Evil masterminds always like to talk." She rolled her eyes.

He chuckled and agreed with a nod.

Silence reigned and the clock ticked on. Summer was fading, but the Hellmouth still seemed fairly quiet. They'd killed, chipped or scared off a lot of the demon population, and slaying was light. Darkness was also in short supply, though with September just around the bend the nights were beginning to stretch.

"Dru wasn't so marvelous at conversation either, come to think of it." Spike confessed, both to himself and to his partner.

Buffy sat up slightly, shoulders and head off the mattress to give him a quizzical look. "She never shut up!"

"I know. But she didn't always make a bloody lot of sense." He shook his head slightly.

Buffy cocked her head. "You don't have to stay stuff like that. I know how much you - how it was."

"Hey- I might be a lying devil, it kinda comes with the fangs, but it's true. I loved talkin' to her, listening' to her... she was hysterical and wicked..." He smiled dreamily, but then his face shifted into hard focus. "But we didn't talk like this, Luv. Little things."

Buffy lowered her head again and kissed him. "I know what you mean."

* * *

"Tomorrow night has to be a night at your place." Buffy whispered as he stretched in the purposeful way that indicated he was about to get out of bed.

"Why's that?" He paused, letting his torso cease flexing, no longer trying to disengage his hand.

She blushed, examining her fingers twined with his in the dark. "I think you can guess."

"Maybe, but I like hearing you say it." He murmured in that almost inaudible tone they used when they didn't want to be overheard. A tone normal human ears wouldn't quite register.

"I think you screwed up my libido, okay?"

"How'd I do that?"

"You make me want you all the time."

"Then you screwed mine up just as much." He shifted uncomfortably. His stiffy made a tent under her crisp lilac sheets, and he could smell the scent of his effect on her as well.

"Fine, we screwed each other." Her words died away abruptly. Her hips moved achingly as well. The cure for the ache was right next to her, and did she reach for it? No. Because they were being "quiet" when they were at her place. Quieter than they had been in the dorms, because dorms had noisy teenagers but not hypercritical parents.

"I'd agree to a little screwing right now." Spike said through locked jaws. "Dammit, Buffy, stop movin' like that."

"I'm not moving, _you're_ moving." She hissed. They both turned to stare accusingly at each put them closer together. Much closer. "Ohhhh."

"Ohhh." He agreed. "Okay. You're right. Every other night, my place."

"No more two nights in a row here." She nodded, voice a mournful squeak of unfulfilled lust.

"Or you could tell your mum sooner rather than later."

"I will. I will, but still- this isn't a good place for our-" He was too close, and it would be so easy to just slip him inside and she'd moan like a satisfied ghost the second he touched her. "-ooh, God, Spike, move now."

"Right." He sighed out and grabbed her hips.

"No! The other way, off the bed." She said in a tone of supremely painful self-denial.

"Dammit." He moved hurriedly, bending to kiss her mouth, and kept his hands curled in resolute fists. "Can you come by today?"

"I have to train with Giles and then I am _so_ coming by."

"Alright. Alright." He nodded slowly, nostrils unflaring. He snagged another kiss and then jammed himself quickly into his clothes. "I am gonna get you so good today." He growled.

"I am gonna get you back just as much." She didn't growl, but there was a certain low brusque quality about her voice that made his fangs itch and cock surge.

"Slayer..."

"Spike..."

She was up on her knees, clutching him to herself, and his hand was down under her soft curls before he could control himself.

She bucked up against back-to-back nights without sex had turned her into a whole new species, nympho maximus, complete with pornographic sound effects. She groaned immediately, and loudly. Panicked eyes locked on his and he kissed her one more time with a long searing look. "Bye, Spike."

"Bye, Baby." Head to head as he tore himself away. "We'll finish it later?"

"Absolutely. Now go! Go!" She hissed.

"Going, gone!" He disappeared into the light blue pre-dawn.

"And so am I." Buffy also scrambled from her bed. "Right into an icy shower."

* * *

"You're up awfully early for a non-college day." Joyce grinned as her daughter came into the kitchen.

"Uh... yeah. I woke up. I had a dream, a really - weird dream, and I couldn't get back to sleep." Buffy fibbed, worrying her mother would ask her why, or say she'd heard a noise.

"Oh, Sweetie. Not one of those scary supernatural dreams, right?" Joyce stopped applying jam to her toast.

"No!" She clarified hastily. "Just the usual kind. Vampires. Stuff." _One vampire. One very good vampire, with very good stuff that he totally shares with me and I was gonna get some until I made a really loud sexually naughty noise. That should not be made within five miles of my mother._

"Poor Buffy. Do you want some toast, Honey?"

"Yes, please." She bounced herself up onto the edge of the counter. "Extra jelly?"

"Anything for my-" Joyce turned from the cabinet, a second plate now in hand. Her body seemed to stop before her arms and head. The plate skidded along the counter and crashed to the floor.

"Mom? Mom!" Buffy scooted down and caught Joyce just as she stumbled forward, barely managing to dive under before her mother's knees met the ground.

"I'm sorry. The plate..."

"Forget the plate, what happened to you?" Buffy forgot about her normal reticence to use "slayeriffic" strength in everyday situations, picked her mom up easily and deposited her on the couch, wide eyed. "You almost fell down! You _did_ fall down! Were you dizzy, or did you feel faint like you were gonna pass out?"

Joyce feebly put her hand to her head as she shrugged. "The room just spun! I haven't felt like that since the morning after that crazy candy incident."

"Are you- did you and Giles have a little too much fun last night?" Buffy asked, arms crossing, face still concerned, although now a little leery._ If she was being a party animal while I was upstairs acting out scenes from the life of a teenage nun, I'm gonna be sooo pissed._

"No! Mr. Giles and I didn't even see each other last night. I think he was catching up on his sleep." Joyce tried to sit up and then woozily sank back. "Buffy, bring me my pills and the pharmacy bags, too."

"Okay. And water? Right, water? Or tea? What's better for dizziness?"

"A glass of water, thank you." Joyce leaned back, eyes blinking painfully.

Buffy hurried to the kitchen and back, bags, bottles, and a water glass in hand. "I've had sinus infections. They never made the room spin, Mom."

"I'm going to have to call the doctor and try to get another appointment. The painkillers are working, but not enough. I keep having this dull ache, just in one spot."

"Isn't that a migraine thing?"

"I think it is. Maybe that's what I have, only I thought they were much more intense and I thought they went away some of the time." Joyce swallowed her pills and rifled through the information pamphlets that came with her prescriptions. "Ah ha. 'May cause dizziness.' I'll have to ask him to prescribe something different." She eyed her anxiously hovering daughter. "See? I'm just fine. No big deal."

"Okay... but maybe you should still rest a little bit?" Buffy bit her lip. Her mom was almost never sick. Or even hurt, and that was pretty rare for her circle of friends. In the midst of everything, her mom radiated 'I am a strong woman'. Or 'I am an angry woman'. Either way... no one made her mom look fragile.

"I will. I don't have to be at the gallery for another hour."

"You stay right there and I'll get you your toast. I'll make you some herbal tea, too."

* * *

"Someone is figuratively toast." Xander greeted a breathless Buffy as she plowed through Giles' door.

"Hi. Have a good- reason." She panted.

"Really?" Giles twirled a sword expertly with one hand while sipping from a coffee mug with the other. "You're an hour late."

"When you're late- he's cranky." Xander said.

"Not the way I'd put it, but a good observation." Giles drained the rest of his beverage.

"Why am I getting heckled?" Buffy now caught her breath. "And why are you here?" She demanded of Xander.

"I'm making extra money."

"How?"

"While you talk, please move the couch out of the way." Giles sighed.

"G-Man-"

"Xander!"

He continued as if uninterrupted, "-asked if I could make an index of topics based off his cross-reference thingies."

Buffy stared dubiously.

"With Willow, Tara, and Anya." Xander added sheepishly. "Only Anya's getting her hair done, and the wicca chicks have class until noon."

"I'm more concerned about why you're late." Giles inserted smoothly. "Buffy?"

"Mom's pills made her dizzy. She almost passed out, and then she was gonna drive to work but she looked really pale, so I rode with her, y'know, in case she got dizzy again. Then I had to walk from the store to here, which is longer than you-"

"Joyce passed out?" Giles demanded, sword swishing through the air as he turned.

"Almost." Buffy backed up.

"Why? What about her pills?"

"The side effects say may cause dizziness, and she was dizzy, I don't know." Buffy suppressed a smile. _Check out Boyfriend Giles. Sounds kind of like a blend of Ripper and _Giles_ Giles. Oh crud. That might be bad._

"You let her go to work?" Giles cried.

"The words 'mom' and 'let' do not together go." Buffy sighed.

"Like mother like slayer." Xander muttered unhelpfully.

"Well- well, what does she intend to do about this?"

"I gave her some toast and some tea and she laid down for an hour. She says the headaches still aren't going away they're just kinda numbed down, and obviously the pills have their own problems, so she's going to call her doctor and try to get a different prescription sometime this week."

He spluttered. He cursed. "Damn and bloody blast..." He slammed the sword down and snatched his keys angrily. "I'm going to go see your mother. The head is nothing to fool with, and if she became light headed at all she should be checked out thoroughly. Today. A-at once."

"Giles, don't fly off the handle. Joyce seems to be the take care of herself type. She and Anya talked a lot while we were in slumberland and Anya told-" Xander was silenced as Giles' angry eyes practically set him alight. "But what do I know?"

"I was wigged too, but I think she's okay." Buffy soothed.

"When we get a medical opinion about that, I'll calm down." Giles said firmly.

"But my training. I'm worst with swords. I think I like wooden things better, and you said-"

"I'll help you with it as soon as I get back." Giles retrieved his sword, and handed it to Xander. "Here. Practice with Xander for a bit."

"Huh?" Both youngsters cried.

"Thank you, good, good. Be back shortly." Giles dashed out the front door, letting it slam behind him.

Buffy and Xander stared at the door, and then each other. "Uh... En garde?" Xander offered holding the sword out clumsily.

"Do you have a death wish?" Buffy demanded sharply.

"Nope." He gently put the sword down. "Damn, those things are heavy! So what should we do instead?"

"Maybe I should head over to the store with Giles." Buffy considered.

"I guess that's a-"

His sentence was cut off yet again, this time by the door flinging open, making them both jump. Giles motioned them out of his flat. "Well, don't just stand there, come on!"

"You said we should practice!"

He ignored this bit of logic. "Your mother will never go with me unless someone's there to run the gallery. We'll get Tara over there as well."

"Okay..." The pair said slowly.

"You could have done this before you stormed out and left us alone with the big metal shish-ka-bob makers." Buffy grumped. "You're acting strange. Even for us."

_I'm not acting strangely I'm acting like a man in love who sees the push has come to shove._ "Just get in the car, please."

They obeyed.

"So," Xander asked as the car screeched from the parking lot, "how do you run an art gallery?"

Giles looked at him in the rearview mirror. "Touch nothing."

* * *

"This had better be worth it. If we traveled for four days without stopping for shopping trips for nothing, I am going to be really wrathful." Glory stepped into the clearing, flanked by her minions and lead by her priests.

No one dared to remind the deposed goddess it had been her plan and her insistence on hurrying and not stopping that led them to this place over other options.

"Open up!" Glory shouted, pushing past her henchmen and demanding of the perfectly circular ring of trees and stones.

Nothing happened.

"Your Unholiness, the Knights of the Deeper Well will not open to you, or even appear to you. Only to one who has a pure soul." The chief priest timidly reminded her.

Glory grit her teeth and glared, but conceded the point in silence.

"Your brother, for all intents and purposes, is human, and has a human soul." Jinx coaxed.

"Pfft." Glory snorted.

"Most Dedicated One, we don't have souls, and neither do you, so-"

"I don't need a soul! I am eternal! You only need a soul if your form isn't going to hold up for more than a puny century."

Again, no one spoke, afraid to remind her that her immortal form hadn't "held up" and had been so fragmented that it took generations to bind her into any type of solid form, and finding a human vessel had been necessary.

Finally, Jinx cleared his throat. "True. You do not need a soul. You will soon be in your most perfect, inhuman, immortal form. However, if we cannot find the Key to complete the ritual..." He made a sad, uncertain noise and let his mistress succumb to the unspoken laws she was subject to.

With a grunt, she nodded, petulant scowl marring her face. She crossed her arms and flailed her head once, and when the face had completed its twist, her male vessel looked out at the assembled party.

"What now?" Ben demanded.

"That favor we requested." Jinx bowed.

"Okay... and then I get a favor."

The minions exchanged glances. Ben had all he could want, when in this form. Glorificus was the dominant figure these days, as the need to hunt down the Key and complete the ritual was more pressing. But for years, he had been given devoted care, attended the best schools, been allowed to pursue a career- all while his "sister" took her much needed rest.

"What favor?"

"When you find this thing, or after I help you _try_ to find this thing- you let me out. And I stay out during the day. I get a job. I get to help people, like you promised all those years ago."

"Oh, Master Ben..." Jinx reached for him tenderly. "You know the time is drawing near, and your sister must be present to direct-"

"She is getting weak, and I'm getting pissed off." Ben cut him of harshly. "She's keeping me down until she cracks and I come out. One day, she's going to be too weak to switch back. Then what happens to your precious Glory?"

The youngest of the three priests reminded him, "You will die then. With her."

"So you don't mind her just going insane inside me at the end then?" He countered with a sneer, earning a chorus of horrified gasps. "I didn't think so. I want things back to the way they were before this monk-hunt started. I get days, she gets nights. Deal?"

Jinx stepped forward yet again, undeterred by the fact that Ben moved away from him each time. "I'm sure something can be arranged. We can discuss it after you go into the Deeper Well, and see if you can find those monks we're looking for, and ask them what they've done with the Key your sister needs." Jinx held out a glimmering dagger.

"I'm not using that."

"Of course not. It's just reinforcement." He smiled gently.

"Promise I get days." Ben refused to touch the weapon.

"Of course. You get the days."

"Swear it. In the name of Glorificus." Ben demanded.

Jinx looked offended. "Master Ben! I've watched over you since you were an infant! Surely you don't need to ask me to-"

"Swear it."

"I don't think your sister would like me to make that bargain so quickly. There may be extenuating circumstances when she'd have to come out."

Ben licked his lips. "Then she'd come out. But in normal circumstances, _I'm_ out. And- and if you don't do this- I won't do what you want now- and what's the worst you can do to me? You won't hurt me, you won't kill me, because Glory'd get hurt too. You can't do this thing yourselves, or she wouldn't have willingly let me out."

Stymied, Jinx turned, the priests shuffled over, and a hasty huddle was formed. "We can't allow that."

"We need the Well opened!"

"We can't harm the boy!"

"She'll be furious!"

"She'll be far more furious if we delay any longer, or if he refuses to cooperate at all. For once, he holds quite a bit of power."

A group sigh and shaking of heads preceded them turning slowly around. "In a non-urgent circumstance- you may have the daylight hours to do as you wish regarding a job and- human activities." Jinx tried to keep the look of disgust off his face.

"Swear it."

"I promise."

"Jinx..."

"Oh fine. We swear on the most sacred name of Glorificus, you shall the daylight time to yourself, and the nights belong to your sister- unless there is an urgent need and we call on her."

"Deal." Ben nodded and turned to face away from the group surrounding him. "What should I do?"

"You say, 'I ask to speak to a Guardian of the Deeper Well'. When he appears, you then say, 'I ask admittance to the Deeper Well'."

"Got it." Ben cleared his throat and called out the words. No one appeared. He called again, more loudly.

"I am a Guardian of the Deeper Well." The voice and the figure seemed to come out of nowhere, emerging seamlessly, a brown skinned man with a brown tunic to match, shifting from one of the trees as if he'd been spawned from it.

"I ask admittance to the Deeper Well." Ben said nervously.

"No."

"Okay, cool with me." Ben waved and turned. "He says no, let's go. Someplace where I can get out of this dress, okay?"

"Wait, wait." The chief priest marched up. "I am versed in your ways, and you must offer admittance to a pure soul who had the ability to find you and call upon you!"

The Guardian scoffed. "Having a human soul is no guarantee of purity." With the tip of his sword he gestured to Ben, "_He_ is a corrupt soul- he will trade billions of lives for his own. He cares nothing for good, _or_ evil, only for himself. He cannot enter. None of you can enter." He turned away.

An angry and incredulous rumble came from behind him, a horde of minions preparing to rise against him.

"Do not even think of it. I'm but one of twelve knights and each knight can call upon the strength of a thousand crusaders. Stay longer in this sacred place, foul hell-spawned creatures, and I will singlehandedly slaughter you."

"This is maddening!" Jinx hissed in angry frustration. "Do something. Priests, Mages, you're telling me you can open dimensions but you can't make him admit one little human?"

"The Deeper Well is not a realm for humans, it is for the ancient gods." One of the minions skilled in magic said regretfully.

"That's true. For the gods...Guardian!"

The knight turned slowly. "You cannot be admitted. Go."

"You are the guardian of all the Ancient Ones, and therefore you are bound to speak to their acolytes. I am the Chief Priest of the Glorious Unnamed One."

"There is none of that name in this vault."

"Be that as it may, I serve an Ancient One, deposed, and you must speak to me."

"If the deity you worship is not in our care, you have no claim on me."

"Not so! You are the Guardian of _all _the Ancient Ones. You are not fulfilling your duty if you refuse to speak to me."

The Guardian's eyes flashed once, "None of my brethren has ever shirked their duties. I will answer you one question, and then if you do not leave, my brothers will arrive to 'escort' you from this place."

Jinx nodded and drew his fellow worshipper aside. "Only one."

"We need to know if the monks are hiding in there. They certainly would've been granted admittance, pure souls if I've ever met any." He looked ill at the thought.

"Then ask."

With a flourish, the Glory's representative addressed the warrior. "Are there any monks who oppose the Glorious Unnamed One in this place, in the Deeper Well, or any of the areas around it, in your care?"

"No." There was a single flicker of eyelids, and Glory's entourage found themselves in a completely different area, though they'd swear they hadn't moved. But the clearing was gone, the stones, the trees, the young man, all disappeared.

"Was he lying?" Ben asked, once he found his balance and stopped looking uneasily around.

"He cannot lie. A knight takes a vow of honesty and purity."

"So we're done here. Great, it's daylight and I'm going to go find some pants. And then see if there are any free clinics, in wherever the heck we are, that need a hand." Ben grinned, and tried to pretend the Knight's words hadn't disturbed him. _I'm not bad. I'm not like her. I love people. I'm a healer. I'm the opposite of her, a life giver, not a destroyer, not a killer._

"Master Ben! You can't, we have to move on. We'll find a place to spend the night and plan our route."

He kept walking, enjoying his temporary freedom, leaving the herd behind him. "You do that. Plan your route, plan your plot. I have until dark to do what I want. Help people." _Yeah. That's what I want. But it doesn't mean I am what he said. That I only care about myself and what I want. If what I want is to help people, that makes me good. If what Glory wants is to kill the world- it's not like I control that. I've never controlled her. I'm just part of her game._

* * *

"Rupert, you are making this into a big deal! Lots of people have side effects from medication, that's why prescriptions come with a pamphlet about side effects." Joyce chuckled at her gentleman's sweet concern.

"Yes, Dear, I know, but I would feel better if you'd just come with me to the ER and they'll check you out."

"Don't overreact." She said kindly.

"Darling, sometimes," he searched for a plausible reason to insist, "when you take medication the mild side effects are just the start. You could start to get the more serious ones. You could pass out again."

"I'll stop taking the pills for a few days until I can get an appointment."

Dammit, that wasn't helping matters. He tried another tactic. "You may have bumped your head."

"She didn't-" Buffy found herself silenced with a glacial glare.

"Rupert, Buffy caught me."

"Yeah, but- it has been a few weeks and those headaches keep coming around." Buffy tried to be reasonable. "Why don't just stop in to see your doctor? Walk in, without an appointment, he could just see you really quick." _That's a compromise between Mom's "everything is fine" and Giles' "everything is dire" modes. Man, opposites so do attract. Queen of "Ignore it and It'll Stop", meet the King of "Everything is Bad and I Have a Book About It". _

"Sounds like a plan, Buff." Xander added supportively.

"I did try to get in touch with him awhile ago. His answering service said he'll call me back when he's in tomorrow. It's his day off today. But it's not _my_ day off, so would all of you please stop crowding the register and let me go try to sell some art?" Joyce pushed past them and went to greet an elderly couple who'd just entered the gallery.

"See, Giles, she'll talk to the doctor tomorrow. No big." Buffy grinned.

Her Watcher turned a shade paler than usual and regarded her with grimly set lips and intense eyes. "Buffy, do you trust me?"

"Duh!" Buffy said automatically. At the wince it earned, she reached out and lightly touched his hand with hers. "Of course. Of course I do."

"We all do." Xander suddenly cast a look of worry between Giles and Joyce. Joyce. Joyce in white, like an angel, but not sweetly singing, cold in a satin lined casket. "Buff, where's Pale Ale today?"

"He's sleeping, why?"

"Nothing. Never mind." _I just know the world without him isn't a cool place to hang out, let's put it like that._ Xander returned to Giles. "Uh- yeah. If we're getting along with _Spike_, we can totally trust you." He covered neatly.

"Then trust me when I say, I don't know how much longer your mother can ignore things. _Anything_, physical or otherwise."

Buffy felt a sick wave of dread in her chest, her eyes raked by his. "Giles, what's wrong?" She whispered.

"I'm worried."

"You're always worried." She whispered in a more cracked voice, mouth drying out.

"Do you have gut feelings?"

"All the time. Spidey senses, too."

"Then listen to me. I- can't explain it. I just have a bad feeling." _It's true. I can't explain. And I have a terrible feeling..._

She locked eyes with him. Some sort of Watcher-Slayer bond might have been activated, or maybe just the amount of trust she had for him, how highly she regarded him, but something seemed to click in her mind. _Mom hasn't been herself for weeks. But she's so happy with him, with me home, that I didn't see it. I've been too happy, we've all been too happy...Why is something always lurking under the happy? _

_ Something just feels off. Mom's never had a headache like this, and she's never had weird side effects when she did take medicine, which is almost never. She's never even sick. She acts like it's nothing. Oh God... whenever she acts like it's nothing..._

_ Dad working late. Fighting. Divorce. Vampires. Trouble at school. Vampires. Slaying. Robo Boyfriend. Vampires. Bad Faith. Evil mayor. Evil-ish slimy principal. Vampires. _

_ Oh. My. God. Entering Bad Feeling City limits._

"Bad feeling times two." Buffy managed to sum up her thoughts.

"Times three." Xander added.

They looked at each other. "I'll talk to her." Buffy murmured.

"I'll call Wills and tell her to hurry up and get over here, not your place." Xander walked away, off to the phone in the back room.

"Thank you." Giles said to both of them, but grabbed for Buffy's hand before she too could leave. "Buffy. Listen. I am being overly cautious, I know that. Please don't worry too much." _Everything will be fine. In the end_.

"Okay." She tried to sound brave.

"Honestly." He kept hold of her. "Maybe you can understand?"

"Understand?"

"When you suddenly think you might have found true love, and perhaps something is endangering it?"

She knew. Exactly. What was hiding in Spike, what secrets she had to protect or maybe risk losing him, she knew about endangering. She understood a sort of nameless lurking uncertainty. But all that came out was a gasp, accompanied by a furtive glance, "You love her?"

"Is that so hard to believe?" He smiled brokenly.

"No! It's easy to believe, I mean, I... I love Spike." She admitted it. She'd done it before. But she didn't think she'd ever said it so seriously, so simply. "I know he's some big, scary, demon, but I worry about him and I- love him."

"Your mum is nearly as strong as he is, in many ways." Giles smiled with a twinkle in his eye. "It's where you get it from, in addition to the strength you have in your own right." He sighed. "Even saying all that, I worry."

"I get it. I'll talk to her."

"Thank you." He watched her go, his chest clenched. He was crossing lines, he was arousing suspicion, he was going to make Joyce mistrustful and Buffy overly curious.

_What was I supposed to do? What _am_ I supposed to do?_

* * *

"Hey, glad I caught you." Xander spoke to Tara.

"We just came up to put our books away. What's up?" "Xander" , she mouthed to Willow who looked at her with a curious glance.

"Can you guys come to Joyce's store instead of Giles'?"

"Sure. Why?"

"She isn't feeling well."

"Awww. Still? Poor Joyce. She's so nice." Tara said.

"Totally. I already called Anya. Um. Do you think you could stop by Spike's?"

"What?" Tata blinked at the phone.

"Buffy wants him." _She didn't say it, but she does. She has to._

"Okay, we can do that. But it's still daylight. Very daylight."

"Tell him Buffy needs him, and he'll get here anyway. He has his car."

"Good point. We'll be there soon." She was about to hang up, but paused. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah. Just Watcher worry." He laughed off her question. "See you." He hung up and looked up at the tall shelves cluttered with boxes, ledgers, order forms and _ everything okay? I don't know. I just lied to Tara. I don't want to lie to her, she's just starting to relax around us. Crap. Willow's gonna kill me. _

A flash of black eyes and lighting striking from fingertips emerged from the place in his mind where he'd tried to bury it. _Crap. Willow's gonna kill me. _

_ No, no. Not true, not gonna happen. Do not think about it. No dead Joyce, no dead anyone, no wacky Willow. _

_ But I'd really like to know what the hell is going on..._

To be continued...


	7. Part VI

**Unknown **

**By Sweetprincipale**

_This is set in my non-canon, but canon-esque series following Uncontrollable and Unmentionable. If you haven't read those first, please do, or this won't read nearly as well or make much sense. Unknown begins a few weeks after the end of Unmentionable, around the beginning of season five._

_Author's Note: I apologize for the long delay in returning to this story! I thank everyone who read Rules Reset and Avoiding Perfection in the interim. I hope most of my readers still come back after this long absence!_

_Author's Second Note: Picks up directly from chapter five, so if you need to re-read, please do. Needed some plot movement, and of course, I wrote it so- wordy. This is a "re-entry chapter". No big revelations yet, but don't worry- you know I have a plan._

_Author's Third Note: Mild smut. Hints of smut. But still, smut._

_Dedicated to: ginar369, rororogers, omslagspapper, Dlillith21, MMWillow, Alexiarrose, Sirius120, Rosalea12, MaireAilbhe, ShyL, Mike13z50, Cavementftw, The Three March Hares, Edward Cullen Brings Sexy Back, Ero-Nike-Hime, HebiR, Illusera, Jewel74, Teddybear-514, and Haleycc. _

_Direct Quotes are obviously not mine, but belong to the fabulously talented and creative people who wrote them. In this case, some of season five's dialogue will be used. _

_**Disclaimer: Nothing of Buffy belongs to me, except my sincere admiration. However, this story is all mine.**_

**Part VI**

"Spike? Spiiiii-iiike?" Willow's voice echoed in the still crypt.

"Spike! A-are you home?" Tara's voice was softer. She clutched her corduroy jacket around herself. "M-maybe he's out."

"Here, vampire vampire vampire." Willow cooed.

"Sweetie, don't treat Spike like a cat." Tara gently admonished.

"No. Tiger, maybe, but not a cat." Spike's voice was cool and amused as he appeared from behind a stone coffin. He'd silently emerged from his basement bedroom, but didn't alert them to his presence, preferred to keep that place out of sight and mind to anyone but him and Buffy.

Willow and Tara gasped. "Don't sneak up on witches! You-you could end up as a rat." Willow spat, clutching Tara's hand protectively.

"Oh, really now." The vampire scoffed.

"Happened before." Willow smiled nervously._ Not exactly because of me, but I was there..._

Spike blinked. "Noted. So what's the deal, Red? Girls pop in for tea?" His eyes narrowed suddenly. "Where's Buffy? What's wrong?"

Tara, with her innate kindness and motherly nature, steadied her voice and spoke soothingly. "Buffy's fine. She wants you to come to the gallery."

"Her mum's gallery? Joyce? What's wrong with Joyce?" Spike was grabbing his coat and keys instantly.

"Nothing. We think. She's not feeling well. Xander called and instead of doing research at Giles' place, he wanted us to come over to the gallery."

"Then let's go." He rummaged around in the fridge for a second and on the makeshift counter by it, pulling out a pair of dark black shades and his breakfast. "I'm ready." He held up the blood and slipped on the sunglasses.

"We'll meet you over there." Willow nodded.

"You wanna ride?"

Tara and Willow exchanged glances.

Willow's thoughts were primarily for Tara. Spike couldn't hurt them, and Buffy loved him. Plus, from hanging out together lately, Willow could see some likable qualities under the scowling. Tara just seemed to be shy around certain people, uncomfortable at times. She was about to decline when Tara spoke up.

"Thanks."

Spike looked gratified for a split second before he could hide it. "Time's wasting, car's at the back. Hustle." He clapped his hands together and strode out, running through the midday sun.

* * *

"I think you're making too big a deal out of this." Joyce had an edge in her voice, but she was picking up her purse.

"Yes, erm. You're probably right." Giles placated.

"Mom, Giles doesn't get pushy without a good reason." Buffy said, and immediately wished she hadn't. His glare was like a whip crack on her skin. _Shouldn't have said it like that, now Mom will be Mom and-_

"What reason? Rupert, do you know something I don't?" Joyce put her hands on her hips.

_Yep. Mom-age. _Buffy winced apologetically at her mentor.

_Oh hell and blast, this wasn't what I wanted to say, what I wanted to do, how I wanted to tell her... _Giles took Joyce by one of her sternly cocked elbows and tugged her aside. "I- uh- hrm." He coughed. "Joyce, I think all Buffy meant was that I- care about you. Very, very much. I don't have many people in my life and when I do, I become deeply concerned for their well being." Joyce's eyes softened, her hands slid to his with a tender grasp.

"Rupert."

He continued, emboldened. "You've struggled with this headache for weeks, and it never fully abates. The medication obviously isn't treating it more than it's affecting you negatively, and waiting until your doctor has an appointment might just make the illness worse."

"It's just a little headache." Joyce said firmly, but her eyes shone up at him. She hadn't had a man in her life to fuss over her in so long. Buffy hadn't been the doting daughter in the last five years either, though with good reason. Still, Joyce didn't share their concerns about her health. _It has to be something minor. I'm a single parent and a business woman. I don't have time to get sick. _

"I know that, my love, but it's a little headache in a very important person." Giles sighed, eyes closing.

_My love. He called me..._ "Better safe than sorry." Joyce smiled and kissed his cheek. "Just let me call a customer who was coming in after lunch to tell them someone else will handle the transaction.

"Thank you! Thank you, Darling, you've no idea how this relieves me." Giles kissed her cheek fervently and let her head to the phone. As she left, he leaned back into the empty corner and patted his forehead with his handkerchief, eyes closed.

"You have to show me how you do that." Buffy's voice startled him, inches from his ear.

"Ah!" Giles gasped and jumped.

"Sorry." Buffy stepped back.

"Do what?" He opened his eyes and spoke with a trace of annoyance.

"Totally wrangle my mom!" Buffy's eyes were eager, hands coming up to tug on his sleeve.

_Like an excited child. _My_ child. _Our_ child_. "You simply have to be persistent and caring." He looked shiftily around before adding, "The accent helps as well. Your mother has a thing for Brits."

"Must be genetic." Buffy giggled.

"I'm ready. Buffy- you'll be here?" Joyce hustled over. If they were going to insist on this extra step, she wanted to get it done with as soon as possible and get back to work.

"Unless you want me to go with you?"

"No, Honey, I want someone here to keep things running." Her mother smiled.

"Then yes, I'll man the ship." Her daughter saluted playfully. "Um. How do I work the register thingy?" Buffy bit her lip.

"I got that." Xander waved his hand. "I worked lots of cash registers since high school ended."

Joyce did not look comforted.

"And Willow and Tara are coming over to help."

"Oh good." Joyce sighed. "Not that you wouldn't have done a wonderful job. I just-"

"We get it, Mom. You feel better when we're playing with supervision." Buffy winked and kissed Joyce's pale cheek.

"Play nice. Don't break anything." Joyce sighed and patted her daughter's shoulder.

"We will. And we won't." Xander stepped guiltily away from one of the sculptures he'd been eying.

Buffy watched her mom and Giles leave, head to the hospital. The smile faded from her face. A wave of worry crested in her stomach. _Please be nothing. Please._

A strong arm snuck across her back. "You know, I feel like I'm watching my parents go off to do the scary medical thing." Xander murmured, looking out the big display window, watching Giles hold the car door open for Joyce as she slid in.

Buffy smiled up at him wanly. "That's because you're the big brother. They're very parent-y to you. To all my friends." She rubbed her stomach. "Why am I so worried?"

"Because we're so good at having things to worry about." He hugged her tighter.

"Maybe." Buffy replied absently, head on his shoulder._ Maybe it's more. Something makes my spidey senses perk up, but then they go back to sleep..._

"I asked Willow and Tara to get Spike for you." Xander tried to cheer her up.

It worked. Buffy beamed at him. "I totally love you."

"I totally know."

* * *

"This is weird. I feel like watching them work is like watching three people I don't even know." Willow mused.

"We're totally unnecessary here. The old Xander would say that we could all skip out and get some pizza." Xander looked between Buffy and Willow as they sat on either side of him.

"The old Xander who sounds suspiciously like the new one?" Buffy passed him the bag of popcorn they were sharing.

"Caught that, huh?"

"Caught it."

"I understand though." Willow still sounded sort of in awe, intelligent eyes watching the scene before them with intense curiosity. "I feel like we're just flies on the wall compared to the super trio out there."

"That's kinda nice, isn't it? For them." Xander, with one of his moments of shared insight, explained. "You know how it is. Our girlfriends and- boyfriends- they're like the wives at the office party of fighting evil."

"You are so weird." Buffy looked at him in wonder.

"I mean sometimes it's like everyone helps out, but back in high school- _we _were the go to guys."

"I think all of us are pretty 'go to' these days!" Willow pouted and took the bag of popcorn from his hands.

"Agreed. Except in the world of art." Xander wiped his hands on his jeans. "Behold the magic that is our girlfriends. And- boyfriend." Buffy rolled her eyes at him. "I'm trying!"

"You're doing really good." Willow hissed. "Oooh, shh, new customer." She put the popcorn back in the middle, and they watched the show begin.

"Welcome to the gallery. Are you here to make a purchase?" Anya said brightly to the woman who came in.

"I- I was just looking."

"For the perfect piece, of course. Are you more interested in the piece's historical origins or the style that would suit you personally?" Anya plowed on.

"Uh- both?" The middle aged woman in a business suit looked taken aback.

"Then you need to consult with William first. William!"

"Right, let's see... single, smart, savvy businesswoman." Spike called from a darker back corner of the gallery. "Closer, please. I don't bite."

"He's amazing, just let him advise you." Anya hustled.

Between the smirking smile and the twinkling eyes, the woman allowed herself to be charmed into listening.

"Office or home?"

"Home. I'm thinking."

"Penthouse apartment, flashy digs?" Spike looked her over.

"Corner sky rise." The woman flushed and preened.

"Hm. Something powerful but understated. You don't want them to know you're such a dynamo, Luv, scares the weaker men. A real man'd know to appreciate that." Spike's eyes flickered to Buffy, who smiled at him.

"I suppose... Yes. I suppose so."

"Alright, that's you sorted. Tara! You're up."

Tara's style was completely different. She'd been reading the woman's aura for the few seconds she spoke to Spike, with his sledge hammer style of sizing up a person, every person, like a meal or an enemy.

This was a lonely woman, looking for happiness. Maybe recently broken up and looking for something new to treat herself to. But also, like Spike said, she seemed to have a strong personality.

"William is the personal style consultant, Tara is our art expert and historian." Anya lead the lady to Tara, who stood in the center of the gallery.

The bewildered customer looked back at Spike. All in black. Very simple, very chic. The complete opposite of the girl in a long sundress with a cord jacket. She didn't look chic at all, but very- sweet might be the best word.

"I think you might like a few pieces we have here. Something bright, bold, b-but not too bold? It would make you feel peaceful when you see it. But it would compliment your inner strength, too." Tara gently guided her forward, leading her along the wall to a brilliant sunrise landscape.

"My inner strength? What sort of a gallery is this? I've never been anywhere that- oh. Oh, now that is beautiful." She stopped in front of the piece Tara pointed her towards.

"Eight minutes, fifty four seconds." Xander called the time.

"Oooh. New record." Buffy smiled. "Looks like we get to do something after all."

"I'll get the paper." Willow headed to the back to tear off a large sheet of sturdy brown wrapping.

"I'll get the felt packing stuff." Buffy went with her.

"I'll stand here, looking manly and ready to carry it out to her car, hoping she doesn't ask for delivery." Xander rose.

Anya rang up the customer cheerfully. "Please tell your friends."

"I will." The woman wrote a check and showed her license, still sounding faintly confused.

"We'll wrap it for you, and my boyfriend will take it to your car for you." Anya beamed. "I love making money. I need to do this more often."

"It's Joyce's money, and shh." Tara whispered.

"Is that bad etiquette in front of customers?"

"Little."

"Why? They _know _they've given me the money in exchange for something."

"Um. Xander?" Tara called faintly.

"Social skills 911?" Xander murmured, passing the blonde art minor.

"Yes, please." Tara smiled painfully.

"On it."

* * *

Spike climbed up on the back counter after the customer had been safely escorted away with her purchase. Buffy eased up beside him. "You're loving this, aren't you?"

"What, getting to play art-slash-personality critic like I know somethin'? Yeah, I love it. If Tara wasn't so goody-goody I could have a lot of fun with this." Buffy gave him a long suffering look. "But then it'd be bad for your mum's business an' I'd never do that. We're jus' trying to help out, Luv."

"Anya's idea." Tara stood in the back to take a drink from her water bottle. "I had no idea she put the "Free Art Expert Consultation" sign in the window until it was too late."

"Oh, it's okay. Not honest, but okay." Buffy laughed tiredly. "As long as she takes it down before my mom gets back." Buffy leaned against Spike, then got up and paced. "When will she be back? They've been gone for like three hours already!"

"Don't worry, Slayer. Hospitals around here are plenty busy. They've probably just gotten in to see a doctor, they'll take a bit of blood, ask a thousand questions, and send her home with somethin' to help."

Buffy chewed the inside of her cheek. "I hope so. I'll feel better when I _know_ something though. Just waiting around is making me crazy."

"Mmm, I like when you go crazy on me." Spike caught her shoulder as she passed and spun her to him. "Y'know, I quite like this angle." He smirked down on her from the counter's ledge, her head even with his lower abdominals. Perfect height for her to dip that graceful neck and... _"You know, we've never made proper use of the ledges in my place."_

"Hey! Innocent bystanders." Willow suddenly yelped and blushed as she passed close enough to hear that last remark.

"Spike!" Buffy blushed as well. Spike sighed and looked skyward.

"Sorry, Red."

"I'm all for the lovin'- I'm just skittish about the details." Willow smiled at her best friend and her new lover. "I'm kind of skittish in general." She backed away.

"You're not. You're my Amazon." Tara followed her and whispered softly, standing behind her. Willow leaned back against her, feeling the pillowy expanse of her bust caress her tense shoulders, instantly relaxing her.

"I like this angle." Willow whispered in reply, mimicking Spike's previous comment.

"Me, too. You have a cute little behind."

"Nothing like yours. Yours is- mmmm."

"We should stop this." Tara giggled as Willow turned and attempted to goose her.

"Yes, you should." Anya said cheerfully, passing beside them with a new spool of register tape. "We have another customer."

Spike, Tara, and Anya went back to their "battle stations" and Buffy, Xander, and Willow returned to perching and watching the entertainment.

"You know, I think he does it to take your mind off things." Willow watched Spike wink in their direction.

"I know that's why he does it." Buffy smiled to herself. "I love that about him."

"I can be distracting, too." Xander said with false injury, hurt puppy look on his face. "Wanna see how many pieces of popcorn I can fit in my mouth?"

"Xander, we banned that after the Heimlich maneuver- vomiting incident at the 9th grade winter carnival." Willow said firmly.

"We never had a winter carnival when I was at Sunnydale High." Buffy frowned.

"Also related to the Heimlich maneuver- vomiting incident at the 9th grade winter carnival." Willow sighed.

"You saved my life, Wills." Xander ruffled her hair. _So much better than ending it. Let's not do that. Let's _never_ do that._ He gazed at the laughing eyes and smiling face. _That's the reality I'm talking about. Everyone alive, everyone well. _

_God, I hope Joyce is okay._

* * *

Joyce was irritable. "Rupert, let's go. We've been here for ages and all they've done is take my name and stick me behind this curtain."

"This is a-" he bent close to her ear, "_Hellmouth_. They have a hundred hard to diagnose maladies and injuries they have to find a rational explanation for on a weekly basis. A woman with a persistent headache and dizziness is farther down on the list."

"Then why don't we go see my doctor tomorrow? I'll walk in and wait until I see him. You've said it yourself, this isn't a real emergency." Joyce got to her feet.

"You're unwell. That is an emergency to _me_." He said with grim sincerity, fingers tightening on her wrist. Joyce sat.

_Oh Lord. I'm behaving like some possessive, nervous beast. Controlling and scared all at once. Hardly a man worthy of Joyce, hardly one she could respect._ "I'm sorry. I know I seem on edge. Unpleasant." He murmured, eyes locked on the hands joined together. His and hers. _Do you know how long it's been since I've done something as simple as hold hands? Don't you understand? No, how could you, when I don't explain myself properly._

"You seem like you're worried. About me." Joyce smiled, eyes also on the twined digits. "I have to tell you, Rupert, it's flattering. It's- unusual. It's been a long time since someone looked after me."

"Or me. You see, I think," he sighed, "that we need each other."

Things seemed to be moving very quickly between them. Or maybe she'd gotten so used to a man who lied and hid, who would never say something so simply honest as "I need you", or "I'm scared for you". "Honey, I-"

"I'm Dr. Mayhew, is this Mrs. Summers?" A man, addressing a clipboard, pushed through the curtained partition.

"Yes, Joyce Summers." Giles rose and practically radiated impatience and relief at the man.

Dr. Mayhew looked up and smiled. "What brings us in here today?"

"We are here because Joyce is not well, and I'm her - friend. Boyfriend." Giles didn't like the patronizing use of the word "us" in the man's sentence and reacted like some testosterone soaked teen. _Well, Joyce found that quite attractive. Back when she was also under the impression she was a teenager. Oh good Lord. Again._

"Rupert, please. Dr. Mayhew, I've had a persistent headache for weeks. I went to my regular family doctor and he couldn't find anything wrong. I've been on painkillers and antibiotics for a few days. This morning I got lightheaded and almost passed out. I'm sure it's just a bad reaction to the medication, but my overprotective- boyfriend," she stumbled over the word, "wouldn't be convinced."

Dr. Mayhew lost his smile and looked grave. "Not to be a pessimist, Mrs. Summers, but I'm glad you have a boyfriend who's so concerned. A persistent headache can be nothing, or it can be the sign of something much more serious. Let me ask you a few questions."

"Okay." Joyce now looked apprehensive. She'd hoped a doctor would treat this with the lightness it deserved. But he seemed to take it seriously. She went to clench her hands together, only to find Giles' already slipped between, supporting her.

"When did the headaches start?"

"About two or three weeks ago. I think. I'm not sure."

"A guess is good, thank you. Is the pain always in one spot?"

"Yes, right about here." Joyce rubbed her temple.

"Have you been under any unusual stress recently?"

Joyce and Giles exchanged a glance. "Unusual, no. Stress, yes."

"Is it made better or worse by light? Sound? Temperature change?"

"Um..."

The questions went on. The doctor made little notes and tics on a sheet carried on his clipboard. After several minutes he glanced over at his work, then smiled at her. "A persistent localized headache can an early warning sign of several things, neurological issues like migraines are the most common, possibly an indicator of an impending minor stroke, a reoccurrence of an injury from years ago. You mentioned in the last six months you did receive a head trauma?"

Joyce nodded, thinking of Faith's fist connecting with her cheekbone, her head slamming into the ground before she blacked out.

"I'm going to do your basic vitals, blood pressure, pulse, check your sinuses- I know your doctor didn't find anything, but that's a good place to begin. If that turns up clear, I'm going to order a basic blood panel, and since you did have a head trauma and you never went to the hospital after the incident- that's correct, right?"

"I didn't think it was serious enough." Joyce nodded.

"We'll do a cat scan in light of that fact. Alright folks?"

"Is that really necessary?"

"Maybe not." The doctor rose and reached for the otoscope, smiling at the couple before him. "But we'll know for sure this way. Besides, I don't think your boyfriend would be too happy with me if I skipped any steps."

"No. He wouldn't." Giles answered, a warning undercurrent beneath his pleasant tones.

Joyce sighed and submitted herself to being examined. Rupert discreetly turned his back, even though the doctor wasn't doing anything other than prodding her ears and nose, peering in her eyes. _What a strange blend he is. Proper gentleman and a pinch of tough guy underneath._ She blinked with a sudden flash of uncomfortableness. _Spike can be like that, in reverse. A pinch of the gentleman in a thug form._

"I don't see anything in your eyes, ears, nose, or throat. Heartbeat sounds normal, pulse normal. Your one pupil," he tapped the air above the painful area of her temple, "only on this side, seems to show a very slight sensitivity to direct light."

"Oh. Oh, that's bad, isn't it?" Joyce asked anxiously.

"Common sign of localized migraines would be the most usual explanation, Mrs. Summers, or it could be related to the blow to the head you received. I'm going to get some blood, get it down to the lab, and put your name in for a cat scan. I have to warn you, it might be a few hours until you can get in. Sit tight, I'm going to put in my request."

While Joyce nodded with a frown, Giles offered up a silent, discreet prayer of thanks. A cat scan and blood work had to show them something, even if only a few signs, a single indicator. Something to give them a diagnosis so they could start the healing process.

"Several hours! Rupert, I have to close the shop. I have to make dinner."

"Darling, Buffy can close the shop, and make dinner." He looked at his watch. "I suppose I'd better call her though."

"No, I hate to call her. She'll just worry."

_Like mother, like daughter. "Let's not tell anyone anything until we know for certain there is terrible news afoot." Well, I suppose I've done that myself a few times. _Many_ times._ Giles protested aloud, over his inner musings. "She'll be worried now. She'll want to know that you won't be back in time for closing, certainly."

"I'll go find a pay phone, let me just grab some-" Joyce reached for her purse, and felt the world slanting with her.

"Joyce!" Giles jumped up and caught her before she fell from the gurney.

"I got dizzy again. I should have eaten lunch." She excused the sudden loss of balance.

Giles nodded. He couldn't speak yet. When she began to fall, his life seemed to fall, too. He knew fear, knew it rather well. This was different. This was seeing visions come to life, and even knowledge of a happy ending did nothing to ease the fright in the moment itself. "I'll call. I'll go to the cafeteria and get you something edible. Edible is the only promise I can make unfortunately." He smiled grimly. "After all my time here, I believe I get the staff discount and can get you two servings of jello, if you'd like."

Joyce laughed and let him scoot her back to the bed, plumping the pillows to prop her up, not lay flat. "Some coffee and edibles would be great."

"Okay, here we are. You'll be able to get in in about forty five minutes." Dr. Mayhew bustled back in, and uncapped a syringe as he sat. "Mrs. Summers, you look a little pale."

"I just had another dizzy spell. I haven't eaten lunch yet."

"That's something to put on your chart. I'll take the blood, and then you can eat something. What time did you last eat?"

"Oh, eight or nine. I think." Joyce shrugged.

He made a notation on the label of the plastic bag. He drew two vials of blood and placed them inside, then stood. "We'll have your results in a few hours. After your scan, speak to the radiology technician and they'll tell you when you can expect your imaging to be processed. I'd say you should hear from me by tomorrow at four. By the latest."

"I won't know tonight?" Joyce bit her lip.

"My shift ends in a few hours. They'll get your results back but I'll need to have both blood and radiology reports to make an accurate diagnosis."

"This is all sounding very serious." Joyce blew out air in a worried column.

About bloody time, Giles thought to himself. "Can't another doctor call her with the results?"

"If it's anything more urgent than a migraine, someone on staff will be in touch immediately." Dr. Mayhew smiled and patted her hand, then shook Giles'. "But I think there's a good possibility that we can just wait until tomorrow." He winked at Joyce, who visibly relaxed. "Take something for the pain, but not the painkiller your doctor prescribed, since it may be causing the dizzy spells. Aspirin or Tylenol until you hear from us. You can continue the antibiotic as well, not that you have a sinus infection, but in case you have something else we haven't detected yet that shows up in your blood work. Okay, folks?"

"Thank you, Dr. Mayhew."

"Yes, thank you." Giles shook his hand once more. "We'll hear from you shortly."

"Tomorrow by four, I promise." With a reassuring smile, he continued on his rounds.

_I rather think it'll be tonight._ Giles kissed Joyce briefly on the lips, hiding the sadness in his eyes under the guise of his usual stoic glance, and went off in search of a phone, coffee, and food, in that order.

* * *

"I'm sure we can special order that- no, no I've been told we can't special order things at this time." Anya glared at Buffy and Tara who were making frantic "No!" gestures to her. "Could you give me your number? I'll have the gallery owner call you personally at her earliest convenience. Yes... What was that last number?... Thank you." Anya hung up and put her hands on her hips. "You're limiting Joyce's earning potential if you don't take special orders. Making people happy makes money. Why do you think hookers, bootleggers, and chocolate companies have been so successful?"

Tara opened her mouth twice, then gave up, turned and walked away.

"Babe, we can't order art work. It's not 'in stock' someplace." Xander explained.

"It should be. It'd be a damn sight more lucrative." She blushed, realizing that he was right. "I got carried away. Sorry."

"Don't be sorry!" Buffy looked at the gallery which now had several blank spaces on the walls and pedestals with nothing to display. "Wait until my mom hears how amazing you guys are at this! Holy cow, she may never come back to work."

Xander's hand spasmed on Anya's shoulder, making her wince. "Sorry, Ahn. "Hey, is anyone else hungry? Who's up for linner?"

"Linner?"

"Late lunch, early dinner. The sandwich shop across the street is still serving."

"Roast beef. Rare." Spike approved.

"Bloody meat for the vampire. Ladies?"

"I'll come with you and see-"

Willow's offer was cut off as the phone jangled.

"Let me get it." Buffy held off Anya. "Hello, you've reached the -"

"Buffy."

"Giles!" Buffy went limp with relief, then taut with anxiety. Her knuckles went white around the receiver.

Like a team moving in around an injured player, Buffy's friends formed a huddle, Spike closest to her, hands on her back.

"Hello, just wanted to check in." He said lightly.

"Check in, great. The store is fine, we're all fine. How's Mom?"

"Well, she's um... She's going to have a few tests done to rule things out. She may have chronic migraines."

"Migraines. Okay, what kind of tests?"

"Blood. Cat scan."

"Oh, that's not too scary. When's she going to be done?"

"A few hours. She said you can close up."

"Close up? Actually, not okay, hang on." Buffy put the phone down to look at Anya who shaking her head.

"We can't just leave all the money here overnight. There must be a safe."

"Really? You're worried about money right now?" Willow asked sharply.

"Joyce is my friend, and she's worked hard to make this gallery successful." Anya retorted, equally sharp. "I'm not letting her get robbed. I'll wait for her to come back if I have to, but you don't leave thousands of dollars in a store over night."

"Buffy. May I interject?" Giles cupped his hand around the receiver and shouted, then apologized to the elderly woman in a wheelchair sitting farther down the hall. "I overheard what Anya said. I'll come over after I drop your mother off, if a few of you will just wait there for me."

"We'll wait. Should I come to the hospital? Does she need me to?" Buffy paced in the center of the knot of people.

"No, I'll have her home in a few hours, I should hope. Is everything really all right?"

"We made Joyce lots of money! We need more paintings!" Anya hollered, able to hear the Watcher's voice.

He chuckled. "I'll tell her that. She'll be very pleased."

"She's really okay?" Buffy turned from the excitable profiteer and redirected the focus onto her mother's health.

There was a pause. "She's fine right now."

"That's not an answer."

The pause was longer. "She _will be_ okay. Mind the store for a bit longer, and I'll be there soon."

* * *

"We must be getting close." A broken, heaving voice cut dimly through the tunnel.

"Don't talk. Focus." Came the equally drained, ravaged reply.

How long had they been in this portal of sorts? Minutes? Months? _Heaven protect us, not months. We may be too late. But we must not be, if this realm survives, to link one of the holiest places on Earth to one of the most foul and evil. The Earth still remains. We have hope that it is the same world we left, only we move through it, and it resists the intrusion._

"Father... how long does this take?"

"Longer- if we- lose focus." The Abbot clutched the sphere, invisible now, but solid in his hands that wavered, became flesh, became light, back and forth.

They wouldn't survive this journey. Soon they'd lose energy to talk, maybe to breathe. But they kept going, heading to the Hellmouth, to take the Sphere to the Key's protector, to gift the sacred weapon to the Slayer, to be used as a last resort. If the Key had to enter battle against the evil one, if she found him in time, this was his sword. So many ifs, ands, and buts in this battle of hide and seek, of keep away.

_Three men who were men of mercy, not men of war, fighting the best way they could- what can we hope to do?_ The Abbot's despair took hold of him.

The realm shifted, wavered, and hoarse cries of surprise and fear echoed behind him, made him his resolve double, surge back again. These two brave souls behind him, he must lead bravely for them. There were more young men that he'd raised, sent out into the world to do noble and pious acts, to protect the Key and stop the Unnamed One, and there were billions of people he'd never met, unknowingly dependent on them. All of them, and one strange man, made up of demon and heart, made pure and reborn for love. They must insure he did not die for it as well. Not yet, anyway.

"We will soon be there!" The Abbot said with courageous, if false, cheer. "We must keep going, and the more we concentrate," he struggled for breath, "the sooner it will be." _And it _will_ be. It simply has to be. _

There was nothing for them but endurance now. Endurance in the knowledge that you must continue, because if you don't, everything you hold dear will die.

* * *

"Slayer, you're gonna do me in, an' that's a neat trick as I'm already dead." Spike sat in his easy chair and patted the vacant seat beside him. "Stop fidgetin' an' sit."

"I can't. I should get home." Buffy replied.

"Then let's get you home. I can stay with you if you want, or I can go, whatever works for you, Buffy." Spike made the offer for the tenth time.

She didn't seem to hear, just pacing in a tight line, like a sentry, only unfortunately for Spike, she seemed to be "guarding" the telly, marching anxiously past it every three seconds. "I'm being a bad daughter. I should be there, with Mom. But she says it's nothing. But Giles says it's something. And when my mom says something is nothing, it's usually something, and when Giles says something is something it's usually a big ass something. Unless it's nothing at all like the time- _Spike_!" On her hundredth circuit she whirled smack into a brick wall of sinew and cool white skin.

"Let. Me. Take. You. Home." He growled, hands tight on her shoulders.

"I just- I don't know what I should do. Pretend stuff is okay like always, until I have something to go on, or maybe go poke my nose in, maybe make it worse... I don't want you to take me home yet." She shook her head bleakly.

"Then just let me take you." Her eyes were puzzled for a minute, before he crashed into her, swirling her around, until she landed in his lap, sprawled across his battered chair.

She gulped desperately, and nodded, hands already tugging at their zippers and belts, his hands behind her back, reaching past her rump to grab her boots and pull them off, making way for her jeans to follow.

"I- was gonna- tell her, Spike- I swear. Before everything went wrong today." Buffy said between kisses that seemed to be half biting, half swallowing, trying to devour each other.

"I'll walk you home. We'll tell her together?"

She shook her head, throat moving across his roving mouth. "Timing-"

"Will never be good 'round here." He dragged his lips off her skin, panting up at her with a half snarl on his wet lips.

"I know. What- should we say?" Her own breathing was rapid, making words falter. Two days without each other, almost a full three- that was a record of deprivation for them. No foreplay was needed, she was so stressed, so wet, so full of adrenaline from only minor slaying and too much thinking.

He lost himself for a moment when she dispensed with all their usual touching and teasing and simply stood, scooted in, and sat. Down. On him. On _all _of him, pushing him into the tight little sleeve of her body, that paradise which always healed so tight, seeming to strangle him and burn him in liquid fire. She reacted like she'd dived into an icy lake, moving on him, against him with a frantic shiver as if trying to get warm.

"Spike?" She prompted hazily, trying to both concentrate and lose herself at once.

"I don't know, Luv. I can't think..."

* * *

"I can't imagine who would be calling at ten at night." Joyce said from her spot on the couch, curled under a blanket, a half-eaten plate of Giles' stir fry in her lap, a mug of hot broth beside her.

"I'll get it, you sit." He raced from the kitchen before she could struggle up from the nest he'd arranged her in.

"Stop fussing! I have a headache, not broken legs." Joyce snagged the portable from the coffee table before he could get the phone. "Hello?"

"Hello. Joyce Summers?"

"May I ask who's calling?"

"This is Dr. Kiner. I'm covering Dr. Mayhew's patients this evening. Your lab and radiology results are back."

"Oh? Dr. Mayhew said he'd call me tomorrow if nothing was urgent."

"That's right. Only we'd like you to come in as soon as possible to have some follow up tests done."

"Why? What's-"

"It may be nothing to worry about Mrs. Summers, but you do have an elevated white cell count. Your cat scan showed nothing unusual."

"Thank God."

"Yes, that is good. However, while those scans are a good place to begin, we'd like to schedule you for an MRI as a follow up. Merely as a precaution."

Joyce swallowed. "An MRI?" Giles sat, heavily, as if his knees had just given up. "Of course. Tomorrow?"

"We think that's a good idea. I'm sorry to disturb you so late, but the MRI appointments fill up very quickly, and each reserved time slot is an hour long. The sooner you call radiology for a time, the better."

"Right. Wh-what's their number?" Joyce put a trembling hand to her head, shook it, and then steeled herself. She became matter of fact and efficient, standing, walking to the calendar in the kitchen, retrieving a pen.

Giles watched. He'd seen it so many times before. Buffy slipping on her armor. Hardening her outer shell and her inner one. Joyce did the same. _Buffy's a Slayer. They become so hard, they simply crack under pressure, hollow inside, or all filled in with the harshness of battle. Her mother is a fighter. I can't let them turn empty inside. A woman, no, _women_- any man would be proud to have by his side, in his family._ He found his feet and went to stand beside her as she wrote on a pad by the fridge._ The strong women need strong men, Rupert. Remember that. Not too strong. Simply strong enough._

"Thank you. Yes, I'll call at seven thirty. Good night." Joyce put down the phone with a dull thud.

"Ah. There was something negative about your blood work?" Giles asked timidly.

Joyce nodded. "Not negative. Unusual. They want to run more tests. But that doesn't mean something horrible is wrong, does it?"

"No!" He found himself speaking with conviction, and this time it was not forced. "If there is something wrong, God forbid," he cast a darted glance to the unseen above, "and it's so very minor that they need to search for it, then it must not be a very big problem." _We're going to stop it. Before it becomes anything bigger. This _will _be alright._

"That's true. That's a good point." Joyce talked in a voice meant to sooth her own anxieties. She suddenly whipped her head around, and stared at him in a way he was familiar with- and loathed

Giles took a step back. That was the same piercing look he'd seen too often. The accusatory, "You endangered my child" stare. "Joyce?"

"You made sure I went today. You talked me into this. You were so concerned over the slightest symptoms..." She frowned and her brows knit, face changing.

Sweat popped out of his pores spontaneously. He backed up as discreetly as possible. _Oh Lord. She knows. I don't know how she knows but she must know because she's,stepping close to me and putting her arms around my neck? Oh, this isn't being strangled, this is affectionate. Oh that's a relief._ _Perhaps that stare is multi-use._ "I simply felt it wasn't to be ignored and I-" He let go of his explanation. She didn't seem to be looking for one.

Her head swam. She'd been mistrustful of him, angry at him for a second, for uncovering something she didn't want to deal with. She'd felt that way frequently in the past, every time she learned of some new danger her daughter had to face, a danger that would consume them all if not dealt with, but still- she hated that Giles expected Buffy to go into danger.

Then the anger had changed as a new feeling hit her. It was a feeling she'd experienced before in regards to him, but very infrequently. It was associated with him protecting Buffy, when she realized he'd helped her. Now that gratitude was different, because it wasn't for Buffy's sake, but for her own.

It was the feeling of being looked after for once, protected, forced to do what you'd rather not, but came under the heading of "for your own good". She'd just forgotten what that feeling was like, in terms of herself. She'd forgotten the feeling of having someone nag her, instead of her doing the nagging. She didn't mean it like that, didn't want to say it to him like that.

Joyce hugged him longer, wanting to find a way to thank him without saying the wrong thing. "Thank you for being persistent. Buffy says you are."

"For the right reasons, I'm unstoppable." He grinned. She grinned back, then clutched him convulsively. "Oh! Oh, Dearest..."

"I think I'm scared. But I'm not sure, because I usually don't have anyone to tell." She laughed weakly.

Giles made small soothing noises in her hair, eyes alert, thoughtful. When he was scared, he researched whatever the danger was. Then he learned how to kill it, and helped Buffy dispatch it, either from the sidelines or the front lines.

_How do you fight this? You're alive at the end- but what battle did you survive? _Not knowing was driving him mad.

"I'm scared too, Darling."

"I'm sure there's nothing to worry about."

"That's right."

"Oh, Rupert, the gallery-"

"I'll manage it. Maybe Anya would help again. She certainly took a shine to it."

"I really like her. She's not like the other girls, she's older somehow. Like Spike, with his young face and his old ways."

"You've no idea." He muttered.

"What was that?"

"Let's sit down, and- much as I hate to sound like some large purple dinosaur or big yellow bird- let's think positively. If there's a small irregularity, they've caught it, and if it's a small problem, it's most likely something with an easy, simple solution." _Please God. _

"Or a mistake."

It was a mistake. But not the kind she hoped for. "Then they'll verify it tomorrow." Giles pulled her head against his shoulder. "You've had a long day. Rest helps everything." He didn't offer to let her go to bed. He didn't offer to go. She wouldn't want him to leave.

* * *

"We've left it too late. We can't wake her up and tell her this, she needs her rest." Spike caught Buffy's wrist as she moved to get off of him.

"You can spend the night and then come down with me in the morning and- and that will officially kill her. You knocked my brains loose, Spike."

"_I _wasn't the one riding me. Thought I touched your tonsils at one point- and not in the usual manner."

"Eww. Don't be gross."

"Since when is that gross? Thought we agreed, if you love each other, nothing is 'bad' or 'gross'."

"I do agree, totally." Buffy blushed, kissing him apologetically, cheeks hot with memories of certain things she'd never, ever have thought she'd try. Until the Big Bad opened her eyes to the fact that all those "never ever"s simply turned out to be other aspects of making love when you did them with your prefect partner. "But the crude joke part? That I object to."

"I'm evil, Luv."

"You're not."

"I've got a soul, not a sainthood." He caught her hips this time. "Let's dash back to your place, see what's what, and if your mum is asleep, we'll come back here. If she's awake, we'll talk."

"Good plan. Scary, life-flashing before my eyes, grounded forever plan, but still good."

"Don't hyperventilate. Put your pants on."

"Just a second, I'm all sticky."

"I can take care of that." Spike slid from the seat, through her legs, as if he'd been greased.

"Spike, I didn't mean- oh. I still think that's kinda gross. A little." Spike ignored her, looking up into her eyes steadily as he lapped. "Um." She tried to step away. He wasn't holding her there. Unless you counted the tongue inside, which had the same effect as a steel anchor. No one would move away from that. "Ummm. Mmmmmmm." Her knees gave, and he sighed contentedly, catching the back of her thighs and watching that oh so flexible body slump over, falling back. "I take it back, I take it back."

"Still sticky?" He teased.

"Yes. For about- ten more minutes."

"Fine. But I'm sticky, too." He arched one mischievous brow suggestively.

Buffy considered for a second. The sweet salty taste of them, trapped on his skin, hearing him enjoying himself, watching all the edges smooth out of his face as he surrendered himself, lost the hardness and she could see a different side of the man she was in love with.

"We have to get a futon or something." She groused, but smilingly swung herself around on her side as he joined her on the floor, exchanging a wickedly playful smirk as they lined themselves up on their used carpet.

* * *

"Shh. They're down here on the couch." Buffy's hand shot out behind her, keeping Spike from entering.

"Well... looks like we came all this way for nothing." Spike hissed softly as Buffy opened the door and then froze. He pushed his lover inside slightly and craned his head. He couldn't see anything. He began to budge around her, then he had an unsettling thought. "You don't mean 'on the couch' like we were 'on the floor', d'you?"

"God, no!" Buffy's loud exclamation made Giles' eyes blink open dazedly. Buffy tried to scurry back out of sight, but his "Watcher eyes" bored through walls and razed her. She eventually popped back with a sheepish smile. Spike, with a more gentle smile than Giles had ever seen, also joined her, the vampire's deep blue eyes transfixed on Joyce's peaceful face.

"All quiet?" Giles breathed.

"One vamp, out of towner. Dust." Buffy whispered, tiptoeing closer. "How is she?"

"Sound asleep and feeling well." Giles pressed his lips together. "Buffy, could you help me at the store tomorrow?"

"Sure, why?" Her eyes suddenly seemed to zoom in on his, seemed large and worried. "_Why_?" Spike pressed her arm as her voice made Joyce twitch.

"She needs another test to- verify some blood results."

Buffy nodded mutely, head swiveling between Giles' tired eyes and her mother's slumbering face. Her hand fumbled back again, not to push Spike out this time, but to grab him. He was already there, arms curling around her waist. "Wh-what tests? What's wrong?"

"We don't know yet. Just a little abnormality in her blood count, and a clean cat scan. They want to do an MRI."

"What's the difference? What are they looking for?" She stepped closer, bringing Spike with her like an unorthodox life preserver. Joyce made a soft, questioning noise in her sleep.

"Buffy, listen to me." Giles drew the blanket more firmly over Joyce and whispered fiercely, "_Everything will be fine in the end._"

Buffy froze at her mother's shifting and Giles' words, nodding slowly. "I wanted to check on her." She looked back at Spike, her worried expression dissolving slightly as she took in his own face, set in some frozen form of worry, realization, and concern for her. His eyes met hers, and a lopsided half smile was born, just for her comfort. "I wanted to tell her about us. More about us. Not _all_ about us. Not all at once."

Giles' expression softened. "That's excellent idea."

"You might need your head examined too." Buffy laughed mirthlessly, silently. "I think maybe I'll do it after - tomorrow."

"Shouldn't she be at the hospital with her mum? I'll help you in the store." Spike murmured.

Giles fought down selfish impulses. _He_ wanted to go with Joyce. "Yes. Yes, Buffy, you plan to go with Joyce."

"You _both_ go. I'll rustle up Demon Gal and our friendly neighborhood witches. And the boy." Spike scowled momentarily. "We had a good run today, we'll have a good run tomorrow."

"Rupert, can you turn down the television?" Joyce mumbled in her sleep, and snuggled her head deeper into the warmth of his strong chest and the soft but crisp shirt.

"Of course." Giles soothed. The television being already switched off, he looked apologetically at the couple before him. "We mustn't talk now."

"Okay. I-" Buffy felt helpless. It was a different kind of helpless. This wasn't the magical kind or the battle kind, nothing had her contained or pinned or poisoned. This was time and worry. Two things she hated hanging over her head. _I what? I can't go upstairs with Spike while Giles is here, I can't let my Mom find out about this right now when something- something might be wrong. I shouldn't leave her. But if Giles is here, she's fine. She might think I was in their business, too, if she woke up and realized I knew about them being here, and then didn't give them "privacy". I'm pretty sure the cosmos didn't mean for moms and daughters to start dating relationships at the same time._ The words whirled on in her mind, and nothing came out in the still room.

"I think Slayer an' I are gonna head up, an' I'll leave by the 'vampire exit' in a few. Joyce doesn't need to know I was here tonight, or that I stayed a little bit longer." Spike tugged her back to reality.

All of them waited for protests to be made. None were. "I'll be here." Giles said softly, stroking Joyce's hair as it rested on his shoulder.

Buffy looked at them. "Are you comfortable? I can get you a pillow?"

"I have everything I need, thank you." Giles didn't look at her, eyes studying the sleeping face resting on his side.

Buffy motioned Spike to head up, while she stood guardedly, waiting to see if her mother would wake up at precisely the wrong second, as was so typical in her life. But she didn't move. Slowly, Buffy began to leave the hall, on Slayer-silent feet. As she hit the bottom of the staircase, she paused. "Giles?"

"Mm?" His eyes swiveled to hers.

"You keep saying everything _will be _okay, or it'll be fine _in the end_. You said it like three times today." She twisted a strand of hair around her hand nervously. "Does that mean everything isn't okay _now_?"

Giles looked at her with somber eyes, and didn't speak. Eventually he smiled slightly.

"Oh." Buffy whispered thickly. He nodded again, and she crept up the stairs.

* * *

Buffy eased into her room, and found Spike already with his shoes and coat off, sitting on the edge of the bed. She stared at him with emptying eyes.

"Here." He opened his arms, and she fell into them.

"Everything will be fine. But it isn't fine now." Buffy gasped out against him, heart too big in her chest, filling her throat by default.

"Just a little test, Luv, just a little test to see..."

"No. I _know_ Giles. I can read him in ways that I can't read my mom, or anyone else. He's all -" she grunted in frustration, "he's solid, you know? He's the original rock in a crisis, and when he's scared, he has a plan, and when he doesn't have a plan..." Her face crumpled. "Something's wrong with Mom, and he knows it, and I can tell, because something's wrong with him, too."

Spike privately agreed, but he pushed her chin up from where it was burrowing into his neck, and held her gaze. "You know why he's not the rock, now?" Buffy shrugged and his voice got softer, pleading. "Because he's in _love_. Things that wouldn't even phase him now scare the hell out of him. 'Cause everything seems larger than life when it's about your girl."

Words from years ago, words that meant nothing now suddenly slapped her. _"You still my girl? "Always"_. Always doesn't mean anything, not when the guy leaves you, and takes "always" down to "in emergencies only". But still she had to ask, wanted words she'd had to learn could be true, were only lies if they came from the wrong person. "Am I your girl?"

"No." Spike answered softly. He could read her, too. Could read old memories in her eyes, in the way her shoulders tensed, the way the words dragged out. Now she looked up, hurt, startled. "You're my _world_."

Hope came back, calm came back, and she pushed him back, flat, on her mattress. "Buffy?"

"Can you be quiet?"

"Here? Now? The old man's still awake."

"Can you be _very _quiet?" She licked her lips and sat straddling his waist, trying to shed tremors of anxiety.

He loved her. And he loved a challenge. He nodded.

* * *

He shook his head. _No good. Nope, simply not gonna happen. Sleep was a stubborn, wily little bastard and it wouldn't come to him. _

"Xander? Where-?" Anya asked sleepily as Xander left the bed.

"I'll be right back, Babe. Gotta get something real quick."

"But we have condoms." She sighed and rolled over.

"I'll remember that." He chuckled and kissed her head softly. He could not wait to leave this place behind, this dull little basement, and get their own place. A few more paychecks... He grabbed the phone from the book case and dialed a number he knew by heart.

The machine came on. He tried again. Machine. Four times he did this before deciding Giles had to be out. _Probably with Joyce. Poor Joyce. Oh man, Joyce. _

"-back at the earliest convenience. Erm. Thank you." A long beep followed the recording.

"Hi. Giles, it's me. And it's really late. I know research and stuff got derailed today, but I was thinking maybe I could come help you tomorrow? Or talk. Just talk, two guys shooting the - breeze." Xander sighed heavily. False cheer wasn't working. "I just need to talk to you. Not a big deal, or anything. Really. I guess." He rubbed his sleep shot eyes. "I think maybe there's something you need to know."

* * *

_To be continued..._


	8. Part VII

**Unknown **

**By Sweetprincipale**

_This is set in my non-canon, but canon-esque series following Uncontrollable and Unmentionable. If you haven't read those first, please do, or this won't read nearly as well or make much sense. Unknown begins a few weeks after the end of Unmentionable, around the beginning of season five._

_Dedicated to: ginar369, omslagspapper, Dlillith21, Alexiarrose, Sirius120, Rosalea12, MaireAilbhe, ShyL, Mike13z50, Cavementftw, CailinRua, Jackiemach916, Illusera, Jewel74, and Teddybear-514. _

_Direct Quotes are obviously not mine, but belong to the fabulously talented and creative people who wrote them. In this case, some of season five's dialogue will be used. _

_**Disclaimer: Nothing of Buffy belongs to me, except my sincere admiration. However, this story is all mine.**_

**Part VII**

"Master Ben, you're very late! It's almost sunset." Jinx scolded, and waved one hand urgently at the minions in the "borrowed" home. A train of disembarking bags, boxes, books, and relics began to stream from the front doors. Glory, if stuck in a human body, was going to enjoy the trimmings.

"It's not dark, so I'm not late." Ben muttered, looking at the sky. "You know, you could at least tell me where I'm going to wake up the next morning. Are we done traveling anytime in the next few weeks? I'd like to actually get a chance to help at the clinics I apply to."

"I cannot tell you. Your sister's command." Jinx smiled sweetly- which given his appearance was not all that pleasant. "Hopefully we'll find what she's looking for at the next stop. You know," Jinx's voice became wheedling and persuasive, "we'd get to our destination much more quickly if we weren't restricted to traveling at night. Perhaps we'd be able to set up house and remain in one town for a few weeks at a time, once we got to the right place, of course."

Ben considered. It was tempting. His life was short, and it wasn't even his fault. Some stupid ritual and a cosmic manifestation at the exact second of his birth, in the right location, the first born and only son, the ability to house a female half, the whole old black magic song, making him a perfect "Vessel". Right.

If he gave in, he might get weeks of time to enjoy his life, to help make the doomed world a better place.

Or she might find what she wanted, and some other "magical" thing might happen, and he'd be stuck on the inside, never get a chance to be in control of his own body again. "Tough luck, Jinxy. I like the dawn to dusk split, and if it screw's up Glory's travel plans, tell her that I said it's payback for screwing up my_ whole life_." Ben stormed angrily past the minion, only to stiffen a few steps away, shudder, convulsing, falling, and when he rose again- Glory was in his place.

"Get me out of these jeans! Oh my God, I need something expensive and satin! Now, now, now!" Glory raged. Her servants scurried, bags opened, car doors opened, soothing, worshipful comments filled the air in an effort to calm her down.

It worked slightly. As she snatched the garments they offered and scooted into the back of a luxurious black sedan, she demanded, "Where are we? Are we in the same little human-infested berg we were in yesterday?"

"I'm afraid so, Most Luxuriant One. Your brother was out in the town all day and he refuses to alter our arrangement."

"An arrangement you should _never_ have made!" Glory spat, reemerging, now swathed in a dark red dress.

"We had to have a being with a soul to try to gain entrance. Your brother refused to cooperate and we couldn't use anything else to persuade him without also endangering you, Oh Precious Immortal. We didn't know he would be found 'impure'. We were only trying to obey your commands, My Goddess."

"Hmph." Glory huffed in annoyed acceptance. "Little worm. I can't wait to be in two separate bodies again. And then I'm going to put him in two separate _pieces_." Jinx dared to give her a mildly upset look. "Don't look at me like that, you know all siblings have little tiffs. I'll put him back together after a few millennia." She grinned wickedly and patted his head with the tips of her fingers. She had one of her unpredictable flights of mood alteration and snapped her fingers, eyes raking around her staff. "What's done is done, no more time to waste. Let's move! I want jets, I want speed record breakers, I want to be at this cave or ear or wherever we're supposed to find the damn monks, and I want to be there before sunrise!"

"Ah." The chief priest dared to make one hesitant little noise in the ensuing bustle.

"What?" Glory demanded, the threat clear in her voice.

"Word must have been passed from the guardian at the Deeper Well. The Ear of the Ancients and the Cave of Souls have their own protectors, and they are of course well hidden. For centuries, man has tried to-"

"Get to the point!" Glory reached out and shook him by the collar.

"They've dropped off our scrying map!" The unfortunate creature yelped. "They must have increased the amount of magical camouflage, b-but I'm sure we can break through it. A-and we already have a good idea where they are, just not the exact location!" The priest concluded in an ever increasing rush, as he watched the black sparks forming in his goddess' eyes.

Glory held him aloft for a second, rage and knowledge battling in her twisted consciousness. As an immortal she had killed with no consequence and no thought to her actions, because that was simply her right and privilege (and frankly her great big buzz) as Supreme Queen of a hell dimension. Now, stuck on this hunk of rock, she needed to consider her actions. Like sucking too many brains in one area got you noticed. Like changing shapes in front of people meant she needed to project that energy of wiping minds to make them forget, which drained her even more and made her need more energy, an unending, annoying cycle. And, she reluctantly considered, killing one of three priests before a ritual that needed three priests would be bad. Glory let him go, slowly.

"How 'close' are we?"

"Only a few thousand miles. Nothing at all with modern travel methods and magical cloaking, Kindest and Most Understanding One." Her officiant replied gratefully, rubbing his neck.

"I'm tired of using modern travel methods and magical cloaking. Just get us where we want to be. Zap!" Glory pouted petulantly.

"Your strength-" Jinx spoke softly.

"I know!" The dethroned being snapped waspishly. Her powers grew the closer the time got to the ritual- but her ability to use them without blowing out her mortal form decreased. It made sense, like a tide, like a balance. Her shell was dying in preparation for her reascension to her true form, her gifts were coming back in preparation for shedding that skin. Too bad one took its toll on the other. "I'm not the only one who can do it. And there have to be other ways. Damn Ben, I can't take this slow down and he knows I need to be 'supervising' everything to keep us on schedule. Stupid little staller, he just doesn't want me to rise again." She turned to Jinx. "You can get our magic users whipped into shape right? You can funnel their power to blow us right off the map and land where we need to be, can't you, Jinx Baby?"

Jinx shivered at her pouting, purring tone, even though he knew it was nothing but her whims, her ever changing moods. He was about to provoke another fierce alteration. "I'm afraid not, Your Loveliness. We have to be discreet as we can. The Knights of Byzantium have their own mages, and as we search for the monks- they search for us. We can't do anything that would attract their attention."

Glory shook for a moment in silent fury, and then it poured out, in a horrible wailing scream. Her foot stomped in accompaniment as she tore at her hair, overwhelmed by impatience and her newfound "helplessness." "I. CAN'T. STAND. _THIS_!" She roared, foot smashing down on the hillside.

There was an ominous cracking. A line ran down the ground. "Shit." Glory gasped, wide eyed, as there was a tumble of rock from behind them.

Jinx sighed as he watched the house on the Grecian cliffside crumble, and the ground under it give way. "That was the kind of thing I was talking about..."

* * *

"Hmm. Small, localized earthquake in Greece this morning." Giles stared at the screen in the upper corner of the radiology wing's waiting room.

"I know. It says that on the screen. And now the man is saying it out loud. Again." Buffy crossed and uncrossed her legs.

"Don't get tetchy."

"My mom is sliding in and out of a big metal tube while they look for something wrong with her. I'm pre-programed to 'tetchy'. That's like touchy, right?" _If Spike were here, he'd already have explained it, and made a joke about needing an English to American dictionary. Or maybe it's just an old people word. Either way, he'd tell me and he'd tease me about it, instead of Giles going into full librarian mode and giving me a verbal essay. I wish Spike was here with me. I wish I could tell Giles and Mom I wish he was here with me. Maybe I should be focusing on wishing Mom's okay. Back to that. _She changed positions yet again.

"Yes, it means touchy." Giles murmured absently and stared at the screen.

Buffy looked at him. "That's it?"

"What's it?"

"Nothing." She smiled softly and took his hand. "How long does this take?"

"Not much longer." Giles squeezed her hand. "H-have you put in your course requests for sophomore year?"

"Willow and Tara and I are going to do it tonight. I didn't get a chance to look at the course catalog." _That_ would equal a Giles lecture. There was only a week until classes began.

"Right." He nodded and removed his glasses wearily.

Buffy stared at him. "Giles- have you even been home since last night?"

"Yes, I showered, shaved and got fresh clothes, then went to the gallery and called Tara and Willow. And Xander and Anya."

* * *

Xander fitted the beam into place with an effort. He was distracted, replaying the message over and over in his head, instead of concentrating on the job in front of him.

_Good morning, Xander, Anya, sorry to call so early. I was wondering if either of you would be able to help at Joyce's store again today? She needs to have some follow up testing done. Buffy and I will be with her at the hospital. Provided, of course, I can find someone to help out in the shop._

Not one word about his phone call,_ his _message from after midnight. And Joyce needed more tests. His message was entering epic importance levels and Giles sounded too tired and distracted to notice. Xander had half a mind to go to the hospital, pull Giles aside, and just blurt everything out.

"Watch out, Harris! Hot rivets, let's go!"

Xander snapped his mind back to the task at hand, not getting killed or fired while putting up this office block. Great way to make a good impression as soon as he got made a permanent part of the construction crew.

_Don't get killed now. Discuss dreams later. _He'd track Giles down tonight. Maybe the tests would show nothing serious. _Or maybe Dream Joyce died from something else, it doesn't have to be something wrong with her now, there are millions of ways to die in this town. Or maybe she doesn't die at all, Spike is here, after all. _

"Harris, you wanna get out of the way of the cement mixer, or you wanna become one with the foundation?"

"Sorry!" Back to the focus now, worry later plan.

* * *

"I'm worrying for nothing, right? Joyce looks so healthy. So it's probably nothing serious. Because she's not old. Not old like 'dying old people' old." Anya babbled and polished the glass display cases. "Older than me- well, human me, but not _old_. I thought diseases happened to the old people."

"Diseases happen to everyone, an' you know it. You helped spread a couple plagues, didn't you?" Spike put a cigarette between his lips grimly. _My girl and her mum are up there, waitin' and sweatin' it out, and what am I doin'? Helping sell sculptures of soddin' butterflies._

"No smoking!" Willow yanked the cigarette from his lips, blinked at her own boldness, and held it back out to him, hand a little shaky, but with her chin set in a small, brave jut.

Spike smiled snarkily. "Who's the wicked witch then?" He teased, but tucked it back in his pocket.

"Yeah... and don't you forget it, pal." Willow managed to tease back.

Anya thumped the bottle of glass cleaner down with an anguished noise. "No one's explaining this to me!"

Tara swung herself off the back counter. "It's because we don't know anything yet, Anya. There's nothing to explain until we know something."

"Well, someone go find something out!"

"Thought you'd never ask." Spike was in his coat and out the back door before anyone could even blink.

* * *

"Do you have any questions for me, Mrs. Summers?" Dr. Mayhew asked as she sat up on the table, looking at the rows of black and white images, all back lit by the large illuminator board.

"No." Joyce murmured numbly.

"Do you want me to get your family in here so we can discuss this?"

"Not yet." Joyce felt cold. She pulled the blue cotton gown tight around her body.

"It's a very small mass, almost undetectable. You were wise not to ignore the early symptoms you felt. This might be a benign tumor for all we know, but if not, well, malignant tumors of this sort can grow quickly if left untreated."

Joyce nodded, thanking Giles with the one part of her brain not frozen in fear. Or growing a tumor. With cancer. Cancer. _Cancer._ She didn't think know how terrible that word was until you were using it to talk about your own health.

"We'd like to keep you overnight so we can get you an appointment and an evaluation with our resident oncologist. He'll need to do a biopsy to determine what you're dealing with. Depending on the results, he'll work out your treatment plan with you. The main thing is, we've caught this very early." Dr. Mayhew made sure their eyes actually connected. "I know it's scary. But the earlier we can detect anything, no matter how aggressive, or in what form, the better chance we have of beating it."

Joyce nodded again, more firmly this time. "Can you explain this to my - my family, the way you explained it to me?"

Mayhew rose and smiled. "I'll get them in here for you."

* * *

Spike scoured the waiting rooms, but couldn't find her for ages. It took longer than one would think, what with keeping out of windowed areas, avoiding suddenly opening doors, and visiting nuns with crosses and mistrustful eyes. But finally, he did find her.

She was all alone, and looked ridiculously small, being the only one in an empty waiting room, huddled up in a corner chair, face turned to the wall. "Slayer?"

She whipped around and was out of the chair, into his arms, before he could move two steps further. "What is it?" He asked grimly.

One word. Barely audible. "Cancer."

_Humans die._ Spike knew that, had always known that, hadn't really minded it or thought about it exactly. Then someone shoved mortality in your face. His arms wrapped her up tighter, tight as she could stand, to the point of crushing her. She welcomed it.

_Won't leave you. _They could almost hear each other thinking.

_ But others may leave _us_._

"How bad?" He whispered thickly.

"Don't know. I- I mean, I said cancer. But the doctor," Buffy pulled back and wiped at her eyes hurriedly, "the doctor said it's not that for sure. They use different words. Mass. Or tumor. Brain tumor. But to me, that means cancer. Brain cancer." _And that means dying. Like Pike was dying. Mom won't go evil, she'll fight, Mom won't want to - _Her thoughts ended with a sob.

"Shhhh. Shh, Luv, she's a fighter, just like you."

"I was so scared for you- and not even thinking about her. I never think about her being in danger unless I can _see_ the danger, and I couldn't see this, so I didn't think! Is this what they do to you if you're selfish, they hurt your family?" Buffy gasped out. A niggling little thought burrowed at the back of her brain, but she ignored it, temporarily lost in the comforting sound of one she trusted. Had no reason to trust in the beginning, but trusted more than she had ever known it was possible to trust.

Spike's voice began where her panicked pleas had ended."Hold on now, you're not selfish, an' I'm an expert on selfish! This is what happens when you're human. Bits fail, illness happens. An' almost all of the human bugs you can fix somehow, or fight 'em off, heal it up, or replace what breaks. We'll do that, Luv. When will they know what we're fightin'?"

She loved him in a new way for that moment, that phrase. For simply, without thinking about it, joining a whole new battle, for wording it like that. _We're fighting. S_he took a deep breath and tried to speak clearly."They're trying to get a biopsy scheduled for tonight or tomorrow. The doctor said- it's been a really quiet summer, the staff and resources aren't stretched too thin. He thinks they can 'fast track' her, whatever that means."

"See, that's us. That's us keepin' the baddies down, keepin' people safe an' out of the hospital so the docs can take care of the real injuries and illnesses. The hospital's gonna have a quiet fall and winter too, if we have any say in it, right, Luv?"

"Right." Buffy's shoulders shook as she let out a long, chest-wracking sigh. "But college starts next week, and school, then all those high schoolers and college kids'll be back, and that's like a vampire dinner bell, all you can eat buffet." Buffy was overwhelmed, and once she'd begun letting it out with her closest confidant, her literal soul mate, she couldn't stop the torrent of fear and worry trapped in her mind.

Spike nodded. The lengthening nights and the fresh flood of bodies, hormones and young, vital blood, all on a background of evil atmosphere, would drag in droves of vampires willing to risk the Slayer. But they'd take care of it. And take care of Joyce. "That's why you don't go this alone, Luv. Why you're the best Slayer ever, and that ever will be. Alone, sure, it's a mess, but with all your little mates _and me_," he gave her a look of exaggerated self-importance, just to make her smile and roll her eyes, "we can do this. We can do whatever we have to do, help your mum, take care of the town, we can do it."

She nodded, staring at him, a smile working its way free. "I love you." Buffy murmured and buried her head on his chest again, making the whirring chaos inside stop, for just a little bit.

* * *

Joyce and Giles finished filling out the insurance forms (she was filling out, and he was there to make disparaging comments about forms and be supportive) and stepped from the consulting area. Joyce drew up short, and Giles eyed her nervously. Buffy was nestled deeply in Spike's arms. Clinging to him. He'd never seen her cling to anyone in her life. _I suppose she'd never been in love like this in her life, either, _he reasoned, and fixed his attention on Joyce. Joyce who was in shock, shaky, and who was going to run home and pack an overnight bag. Now her pallor seemed to be flushing pink, her vacant eyes focused. Not necessarily in a good way...

Spike's hand ran up Buffy's back, and he stroked her hair twice before pressing his lips lingeringly to the top of her head. His face was different. Pained in an unfamiliar way. _Feeling Buffy's pain, and he can't soothe it. My own face must look like that, when I held Joyce in my arms last night. _He felt an expected rush of kinship for the pale man.

"Hrm." Joyce cleared her throat once.

Buffy rushed to her side, scooting from Spike's arms instantly. "Mom."

"Buffy, what-" Joyce was cut off, finding Buffy suddenly dwarfed, her worried eyes lost in deep blue eyes, and her hands engulfed in a cool pair that unflinchingly held onto hers, as if he'd done it all his life.

"I heard. I came to see how you were and I heard." He spoked softly, something different in his voice, accent modified. "Whatever you need, Joyce, you, or Buffy, we'll get it taken care of."

Joyce smiled slightly, disarmed for the time being. "Thank you, Spike."

"You know, you can call me William, if it makes you feel better." He winked at her. "Lady like you doesn't have too many friends with names like 'Spike', prolly."

"Oh, I don't know. She has one named Ripper." Joyce leaned on Giles, who put his arm around her back. "Buffy, we're going to go home and pack a bag."

"I'll go with you."

"You have to register for classes."

"That can wait."

"No, it can't." Joyce was firm, her maternal dominance reasserted. "Go take care of that, please."

"Mom-"

"You have to hurry up and do that if you're going to be back in time to smuggle some dinner in to your old mom. I had the cafeteria food yesterday. I can't handle it two days in a row." Joyce smiled bravely and touched Buffy's cheek.

"I'll stay with Joyce, Buffy." Giles assured.

"No, Rupert you must have things you need to be doing." Joyce shook her head, protesting.

"None of them are as important as doing you."

Four figures exchanged slightly off-put glances. "That is, being with you is the most important- or that is to say, more important, and - I-we'd better go get your things, hadn't we?" He finished in a high pitched voice that was perilously close to breaking into a nervous whinny.

"You most certainly had." Spike muttered, as Buffy and Joyce gave the flustered Watcher burning glares. "We'll be in later, yeah? With goodies."

"Thank you, Spike." Joyce headed towards the exit, head up, in command of herself. She paused for a moment before passing through the heavy swinging doors of the hospital wing, waiting to feel Giles next to her, to hear Buffy behind her. _Not alone. _She turned slightly, saw Spike's hand slip across Buffy's shoulders and then back to his side. _No, not alone._ "Thank you all, for all the help."

* * *

"Thank you for your purchase. Come again." Anya beamed at a customer.

The chime over the door rang and Buffy came in. The door at the back of the shop, leading from the alley, banged shut simultaneously.

"Oh, thank goodness, we've been going crazy! Spike, you suck at reconnaissance." Anya turned from Buffy to Spike rapidly.

"Shut up, Anya." Willow said without heat, walking past her to get to Buffy. "What is it?" She knew that look. The sad smile. The "Oh, nothing's wrong Wills." smile.

"Nothing major. For sure." Buffy's smile wavered.

"What is it- kind of?" Willow pressed gently.

"Kind of a tumor. Kind of. On her brain."

"What?" Anya whispered disbelievingly.

"Oh no. No." Tara put her hands to her mouth.

Willow darted a glance between Tara and Buffy. _Tara's mother died of cancer. No. No, see, this can't happen to both of my best girlfriends. My girlfriend and my best friend who's a girl_. "But- they can do something right?"

"They don't even know how harmful it is." Spike stepped up. "Joyce's in overnight, she'll have a biopsy in the morning. One thing the doc told 'em was they caught it early. Nice an' early, so it's tiny. Just starting to be a bother."

"Her headaches." Anya bit her lip. She twisted her hands. She wanted Xander. She wanted to call him, but it wasn't like the construction company had a phone out in the middle of all the girders and welding.

"Wouldn't have even noticed it if Giles hadn't gone all worrywart on her." Buffy said into Willow's shoulder, then frowned. Giles had been the one who was adamant about taking her to the ER yesterday. He wouldn't leave the issue alone. "Hey, speaking of Giles-"

"What do we do?" Anya blurted, unable to contain her question one second more. "When someone you care about has- has something big, like this? Do we do flowers? I mean, I don't understand why you send flowers, because unless you send ones with medicinal properties to a skilled herbalist the-"

"Anya!" Willow snapped.

"I'm sorry!" Anya cried, but she wasn't defensive. Just- lost. "I don't know what to do."

"You don't panic. An' you ask the person what they can do. Far as we know, Joyce is just in hospital for a night and' they serve cardboard disguised as meals. We're goin' over later with a proper dinner. You comin' along?" Spike offered.

"Yes. I'll even cook! I just have to go find out how to make something other than muffins. I make great muffins."

"Then make her muffins. But tomorrow. That's a breakfast food." Tara smiled. "We shouldn't waste time cooking, we should be w-with Joyce. Keep her company. Hospitals are no fun."

"I _hate _hospitals." Buffy mumbled viciously.

Willow, who knew why, nodded knowingly. The rest just nodded sympathetically.

"I'll close up the gallery. Giles let me have his spare key. Only for today." Anya took the key from a chain dangling on her neck like it was a prize possession.

"Car's gassed up, ready to go. What's your mum likely to fancy?"

"She's not picky." Buffy shrugged. "Oh, but she does want me to get my class schedule done and submitted. Willow-"

Willow was all over the problem from even one word. "How many credits do you want? Minimum is twelve to be considered full time."

"Then give me twelve. Can I add more if I want?" Buffy asked hesitantly.

"Probably not. Not if they fill up."

"Oh. Well, if Mom needs me-which I hope she won't-"

"You'll know how bad it is in a few days, right?" Tara came closer. "Why don't you do fifteen, and drop one if Joyce needs you to be around more."

"We'll all be around more." Anya smiled brightly, trying to ease her own panic, her own fear about these frail human lives she didn't really understand anymore.

"Let's do that. Can you whip me up something that meets the general ed requirements, light on the math, heavy on the mid day time slots?"

"You've come to the right place, and all I ask in return is mochas and love." Willow grinned.

"Got that." Buffy hugged her friend tightly once more.

"Oh enough! I'm on the good guy team, but please no more hugs." Spike groaned. "I swear it's an American epidemic." He pushed out the back door, then stuck his head back in. "I'll be in the car when the touchy feely is over."

"I think he's upset." Buffy sighed. "He's not trying to be a jerk." She looked after him thoughtfully._ I think having a soul, it hurts him more than it used to, and he was still one of the biggest heart on the sleeve freaks I'd ever met. But I can't tell them that. They can't know that._

"You don't have to explain it." Tara murmured, remembering times when emotions drove her from rooms, too, made her into the scared shy mouse of a girl she'd become. And now she was with her Willow. Standing so much taller, but sometimes still so scared inside. She didn't want to explain that to anyone right now. "You don't have to say anything."

* * *

"Rupert. I didn't want to say anything while they were all here, but didn't you think Spike and Buffy seemed awfully- close?"

"Well, yes. I think they're friendship is growing. They have a friendship at all, that's certainly growth." Giles perched in the plastic chair at the side of the bed. The biopsy was scheduled for early in the morning tomorrow. He merely wanted to sit with her until she fell asleep. The pain medication they gave her, now that the results were in and certain side effects were ruled out, was making her very sleepy. The others had left, Buffy had just gone, after spending about thirty minutes alone with her mother. When she'd finished, Giles was waiting for Joyce, and Spike was waiting for Buffy, discreetly tucked away in the hall- but Joyce caught the flash of platinum and black reaching out to take her child's hand.

"I don't like it." Joyce muttered, drifting.

"The friendship?"

"I don't mind that. I think he wants more. She didn't say anything, but she's been out late with him. I can tell."

"Patrolling, I'm sure." _Patrolling in part, at least. _

"Maybe. But I don't think that's all. That's how it started with the other one. He always looked at my baby girl..." Joyce frowned. In her drugged state, memories of Angel, Angelus, the evil Spike, and this caring, friendly version were beginning to blur in her mind.

Giles took off his glasses. _A mother's love prevents clear sight. Or she'd know Buffy and Spike have begun to look at each other the exact same way- some blend of love and desire, carefully modulated in public._ "Joyce-"

"Ever since the night of those dreams, he looks at her like he sees inside her."

"Isn't that a good quality for a friend? So many try to know the Slayer, and fail."

"I don't want her alone... I want her to have... friends." Joyce smiled up at him. "But I want her to have a chance."

Giles waited expectantly. "A chance for what?" He finally prodded gently.

"Love. _Human_ love."

"Spike is very human. Unsettlingly human." Giles chuckled with a sigh.

"Nice boy sometimes."

"Yes, he can be very good to those he cares for." He was forced to agree.

"As long as it doesn't get out of hand." Stalking her. _In the house. No, not Spike, Angel._ "Spike's always been polite." _It's the other one. Aren't they both the same? Both vampires. Are they all the same?_ "As long as it doesn't happen again."

Giles had no response for that. For one thing, he was unclear on what she was trying to say. Nor did she seem to have anything more to say on the subject. "Joyce? Joyce?" He looked at the monitor she was hooked to. Her pulse was nice and steady, slowing slightly. Sleeping peacefully. Sound asleep. He waited several more minutes, easing his hand out of her grasp slowly so as not to wake her. He rose silently, and stood over her, wanting to kiss her goodnight, afraid to startle her if he did. "Sleep well, my love." He turned from the curtain around the bed and almost yelped in a most unmanly way.

"What are you doing here!?"

* * *

"Sorry." Xander hissed guiltily, standing against the wall of the hospital room.

"How long have you been there?" Giles dragged him roughly by the elbow out of the room, shutting the door firmly behind them.

"Two graces and three Now I Lay me Down to Sleeps. They're the only prayers I know." Xander said anxiously.

"Would you like to learn the Prayer of the Dying? Because I can teach you that." Giles glared furiously. "You couldn't knock? That was a private moment, and not for an audience! I cannot believe-"

"Hey! Take it easy! Everyone left but you, and I would have knocked but I was afraid to wake Joyce up if she was already asleep. I wondered if we passed each other somehow. I have to talk to you! I've been trying to get ahold of you for two days!"

"That doesn't excuse eavesdropping!" Giles was a dull red in embarrassment and anger.

"No, it doesn't and I would have left, but- I heard Joyce talking about Buffy and Spike." He gave the older man an apprehensive look.

"Oh, not you too." Giles moaned quietly. "You were the loudest proponent of their relationship. To my surprise, I admit, but I figured our dreams had all given us new insights into the value of- of looking deeper, following the heart."

"Boy, did they. And don't get me wrong, I am still sick about the guy himself, but I'm all for the Spike and Buffy Couple of the Year Show."

"Then what? Joyce doesn't know about their relationship yet, and Buffy, understandably, has been delayed in telling her. It's not her fault that a crisis which makes it more difficult to talk to her mother also makes her more in need of support. Joyce is in denial if she thinks all they are is friends."

"Well, she does hold the title for most ostrich-like appearance. Y'know, with her head in the sand." Xander muttered. Giles' glare turned down several degrees, until he could feel ice forming on his collar. "I mean that in a nice way! She's super busy and she has a lot going on right now, she's had a lot going on since we met her, and Buff is good at hiding things. So are we, when it comes to keeping everyone safe."

"Yes. And these 'hidden' things will out in their own time, as soon as Buffy and her mother find a moment not swarmed with doctors and nurses or well-meaning friends. Joyce won't be happy, but-" Giles shrugged.

"Uh. That's the part I'm afraid of, Joyce's but."

"Xander!"

"But! As in- wait I have an objection. Geez, Giles are you smokin' something?"

"Don't I wish." The tired father-figure motioned Xander to follow him out of the building, exiting the long hallway. "I'm just on edge. The woman I love is ill and she- we don't know how ill, yet."

Xander froze a few steps back. "The big L? You and Joyce?"

"Perhaps it's one sided. But yes. I care for her like that. B-big L." Giles stammered.

Xander whooped, and punched Giles' on his tweedy shoulders. "Way to go G-Man! Been a long time coming and-" The shouting suddenly stopped, and Xander's face lost its boyish smirk. "That's great. Really great."

"Thank you. Well, congratulations are a bit premature, but..." Giles trailed off with a shrug. _Congratulations will come though. And you'll be there. All grown up, with a girl of your own, just as in love..._

"Yeah. Um. About that. I know you're tired, I'm tired, and everything's all screwy now, but can we go back to your place and talk?"

"_Tonight_?"

"Yes."

Xander's tone didn't leave any room for argument, and that was a tone Giles seldom heard him use with anyone, let alone to him, someone the young man respected. "Very well. We'll talk."

* * *

"I don't know how to start. It has something to do with the dream." Xander followed Giles to the kitchen of his flat. Only at the word 'dream', Giles turned on his heel and left the kitchen, and headed to the sideboard where he kept his Scotch and several glasses.

_How'd he know? Good Lord, am I too calm? Too transparent? Xander, under all his blunders, can be very insightful._ "The dream?" Giles kept his voice even as he poured one, then two glasses partway full. Giles handed one to his guest and drained the other before refilling it.

"Yeah. The one we all had? Well... I know there are some pieces missing from what we shared."

_Damn him and that idiotic exterior he projects_. "Look, Xander, I saw Joyce alive and well. I know this is scary, but I also know she'll be fine in the end."

Xander frowned, sniffed the liquid in the glass and then gave Giles a quizzical stare. _He's tanked already?_ _Or maybe this is stiff upper lip British guy stuff? I don't want to tell him, this is gonna kill him. I didn't know he _loved_ her. Maybe if I just don't think about Joyce. Joyce in a coffin. Geez, it's that whole "Don't think about pink monkeys" trick and then all you can think of is pink moneys. _He sipped his whiskey, and gasped as it stung his tongue, but it let him play for time._ Don't think about Joyce in the coffin in the white dress. Don't think of Joyce being dead, don't think of Joyce- crud. _

"Xander? Giles was cracking under the fixed, somewhat blank eyes.

The rest of the nightmare images resurfaced faster and faster until Xander felt his eyes watering, blinking so fast. _The key piece is Spike. Take him away- but hey, where does he fit in, anyway? It doesn't matter. Only we have to keep him here. Spike gone equals everything bad, Spike staying equals everything good, or at least not dead! I hope. We need Spike for the good guy team to at least have a fighting shot. Oh man. My brain just tried to spit itself out from too much improbability._

"Giles." Xander replied, a slow, strained sound. "In my dream, I saw Joyce."

"As did I." Giles frowned and took the glass from Xander's hand, suddenly thinking alcohol was not a good idea.

"My Joyce was dead."

The glass dropped, shattered, potent amber liquid leaking everywhere. "What?"

"But not like- dead, dead. Like it's not definite. It's like that Christmas movie when the ghosts come and show Scrooge McDuck what a bastard he was and then he can change and Tiny Tim can walk at the end?"

"You've gone mad." Giles exclaimed in a soft, horrified tone.

"No, I haven't, I mean, not madder than anyone else with the dream. That's all of us. All of us are mad here. Hey, that's from _Alice in Wonderland_ right? Another good Disney movie, I saw it-"

"Stop calling classic works of English literature movies and get to the point!" Giles thundered, hurling his own glass to the floor in a sudden flare of Ripper-like temper.

Both men stared, frightened by the outburst. Xander, because it reminded him of his own drunken, volatile father, and Giles, because he knew that's what was passing through his friend's mind. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, son. I never-"

"It's okay." Xander didn't think Giles had ever called him son before. His throat got all fuzzy. "If someone told me Anya was going to die..." _Someone did. That dream. But one death at a time, right? _

"What are you saying?"

"In the dream, I saw Joyce was dead! And- other bad things, but it doesn't have to be that way."

"It_ isn't _that way. I've seen her. She's fine." Giles growled in a low, burning voice.

"We've all seen her, she looks great, but it's-"

"I told you, didn't I? That I knew Spike and Buffy would help many ,have a future together?"

"Yeah. I thought you were being supportive."

"I had a good reason to be. I_ saw _them. Years later. Just as I saw Joyce, years later. Healthy. Happy. Alive." His voice was fading, some soft light invading normally cool eyes. "With me."

"Okay..." Xander wanted to probe into that, he instantly had a million questions, most of them were along the lines of "What about me? Anya? Us as a couple?" But maybe those dreams were about Slayer and Watcher only. Even if not- he could ask him later, because right now all the paddles were about to be left on the dock as they started up the creek. "That's great. That all fits with what I saw-_ if_ Spike is there."

"If Spike is where?"

"With Buffy. Look, I'm the heart, but he's the key to hers, or something." Giles nodded slightly. "In my dream- I know what happens if you take Spike from Buffy."

"Oh heavens, I'm not terribly fond of him, but I'm not planning to 'take' him away!"

"What about Joyce? Who makes ultimatums that make Buffy act completely un-Buffy like? Like running away and living as a waitress for five months, who can do that with a couple well chosen "If you leave the house never come back"s?"

"That was just one of many factors! And Joyce was a different person then, angry, confused, upset, under pressure!"

"And having cancer of the brain and finding out your only daughter is willingly shagging a vampire might push her over the stressed, confused, under pressure edge!"

"She doesn't want her daughter to be alone, we've discussed this." Giles bridled.

"I bet she doesn't, but she might not want her with Spike!"

"Buffy hasn't even had a chance to explain matters to her, let's- let's give them both a chance to prove they are the kind, loving people we know they are. I'm sure, that under the circumstances-"

"Giles, listen to me. I know what you're saying, and I'm just telling you right now, that 'under the circumstances' is what I'm worried about. I heard Joyce saying she doesn't want Buffy and Spike to be anything more than friends. I know that if Joyce gets all angry and stuff, Buffy won't run this time - but she might give Spike up."

"She doesn't give him up." Giles' face twisted suddenly, and he saw a day years, decades away, two figures holding hands, battling back to back. There was a break in the ring surrounding them, and the girl had a shot, a chance to run. But she stayed, hand just gripping a little tighter on the man beside her's. "She never gives him up. Not even when she had a chance to get away without him..."

"Look, I don't really like my mom. But I do_ love_ her. And if- if something were really wrong with her, if she was really sick, and she asked me do one thing for her, I'd think about doing it. Even if I didn't want to."

"You're saying if Joyce is very ill and she makes the request for Buffy to give up Spike, Buffy might do it?"

"Maybe not planning to do it for long, just to take a break, make Joyce happy. Maybe she'd just tell Spike to leave town until Joyce is better and then they can try to reason with her." Xander interjected, raking his hands through his hair distractedly.

"And then Spike leaves- what? What then?"

"I don't know. I don't know what happens. I just know- I got the message. Spike and Slayer, not sold separately. If you do- bad stuff happens. Buffy might think she'll help her mom get better, but in some wacky cosmic hangover way- Joyce gets the opposite of better."

Giles thought, paced, avoiding the broken glass as he headed back to the bottle of Scotch, taking a long pull at it, and then wiping his mouth as he slammed it back down on the silver tray. _So there are alternative futures. But _my_ version is accurate. My version is accurate if I keep all the pieces. Like a bloody hidden puzzle in the puzzle, you remove one piece, open up a different layer, different design. Xander's dream may have been some trick, some illusion by Sineya, mine was a gift, a gift of the Watchers, last to ancient first. I know _I'm_ right. I know it. I have to be right. Nonetheless, these things are too precious to risk..._

"Giles?" A minute later, "Giles?"

"I'm thinking."

"What are we going to do?"

"I don't know."

"He_ can't_ leave."

"He won't." Giles looked at the haggard carpenter. "What exactly did Spike do that saved her life?"

"I don't know if he did _anything_! It drives me crazy not knowing why he's all important, I just got the mega serious impression that Spike has to be in the picture- or the picture changes. I mean, maybe that was before, maybe things are different, I don't understand the way these multiple choice realities work! I always thought you had one and you were stuck with it." Xander swallowed, and watched one of his heroes walking the floor, like a rumpled, graying tiger. "I wasn't going to tell anyone, I didn't want to upset everyone. And like you told us the one day, some things are best left unsaid."

"I'm glad you came to me." Giles tried to hold onto the certainty of his version of the future, the one that had helped him be so brave, the one that had helped him be so insistent.

"Me, too... I guess. But now that you know something could happen- what are you going to do? Are you going to tell Joyce? Or Buffy?"

Giles whirled to face him, and knelt, soles of his shoes crunching the broken glass under his feet, knees crushing the sharp edges into his knees, but he was unmindful of it, didn't even feel it in his urgency. "You can't tell anyone how important Spike is. How very- crucial he is. The best way to protect him, is to hide him."

"From Joyce?"

"No. From the world. Not hide him physically, just the fact of his importance. " The middle aged man's careworn eyes flickered uneasily across Xander's. "Does Buffy live without him?"

Xander mutely shook his head. "I don't think so." Bloodstained chest, yellow sweatshirt, covered in gore, little black hole, glassy eyes staring up at nothing. "I don't think so." He repeated hoarsely.

"She needs him. And he needs her. Apparently they belong together." _The things they face down- I can't even begin to delineate or see them clearly, there are so many. But I always see them together. Through it all. And there's so much! _"There are a thousand enemies looking for a way to incapacitate the Slayer, and once they find out about Spike-"

"What about him?" Xander felt like Giles knew more than he was saying, which was true, but he felt like the older man knew _much _more.

"How valuable he is." Giles' eyes darted away for a second. "They will be after them both, divide and conquer. I'll talk to Buffy and Spike if need be. I'll certainly speak to them, and Joyce, about their romance. As for the rest- don't tell the group more until we discuss it further. You've already said your dream proves that Spike is the key to the Slayer's heart, and what she needs to keep something 'locked'. This is simply more detailed. Maybe it's death's door he keeps shut and sealed."

"God, I hope so." Xander exclaimed in a fervent hiss.

"Right then." Giles rose, winced as he now felt the glass shards. "You haven't had anything to drink have you?"

"No. Well, a sip."

"Excellent. Get my keys. We need to drive back to the hospital."

"To talk to Joyce about accepting Buffy and Spike as a couple?"

"No... I rather think I've got glass imbedded in my knees, and given the lateness of the hour and the stress we've both been under- I''d like a trained professional to get the glass out of my knees."

"Oh. Right."

"I'll talk to Buffy and Joyce after they have their conversation." Giles gingerly flexed his leg and leaned on Xander. "Who knows? Maybe it'll all go splendidly, and I won't have to intervene at all, on either side of the issue."

"Don't do that, G-Man."

"Do what?"

"The denial thing. It doesn't look good on you."

"No? How about quietly optimistic?"

"Warmer."

"Unrealistically optimistic?"

"_There _you go." Xander helped him shuffle out the front door and locked it behind him.

"Oh, hell. I felt so much better before you stuck your nose in." Giles sighed with a mild slur, hobbling down the stairs.

"Hey!"

"No I'm glad to know. Well, not_ glad_, but better to know. Oh, Nan was right." Giles referred to his grandmother's spiritual presence who'd been the main voice in his dream. "It's both terrible and wonderful to know- but it does help."

"It does? Really?"

Giles heaved a painful sigh as he got into his seat, looking at the blood soaking through his pants, and Xander sitting behind the wheel of his relatively new sports car. "Yes. Just not right at the moment."

* * *

To be continued...


	9. Part VIII

**Unknown **

**By Sweetprincipale**

_This is set in my non-canon, but canon-esque series following Uncontrollable and Unmentionable. If you haven't read those first, please do, or this won't read nearly as well or make much sense. Unknown begins a few weeks after the end of Unmentionable, around the beginning of season five._

_Author's Note: Hello all. Just wanted to post a chapter today, because after this I may not be able to post for about ten days as I'll be away and insanely busy. (Although I may try to squeeze in something, it all depends on free time and internet connection.) Would love an extra helping of reviews to keep me from missing my FF. Net readers and friends!_

_Author's Second Note: Smut warning._

_Author's Third Note: Part of Unmentionable's dream scene is used towards the end of the chapter, in case anyone's thinking it sounded familiar._

_Dedicated to: ginar369, omslagspapper, Dlillith21, Alexiarrose, Sirius120, Rosalea12, MaireAilbhe, ShyL, Mike13z50, Cavementftw, CailinRua, Jackiemack916, Illusera, Jewel74, Teddybear-514, Touch the Dark, rororogers, Edward Cullen Brings Sexy Back and Lil-Leti._

_Direct Quotes are obviously not mine, but belong to the fabulously talented and creative people who wrote them. In this case, some of season five's dialogue will be used. _

_**Disclaimer: Nothing of Buffy belongs to me, except my sincere admiration. However, this story is all mine.**_

**Part VIII**

"You hungry?"

"Nn- nn." Buffy shook her head wearily, locking the door and immediately climbing the stairs.

"You hardly ate." Spike reminded her as she walked to the second floor.

"I know. You didn't either. You want me to heat up-"

"No, I don't think I feel like it actually." Spike followed after her, eyes practically glowing in the dark.

_Mom's in the hospital and Spike's with me. And it isn't fun. When she was on a buying trip, this was like our hideout, our love nest. Best times for either of us, ever. Now Mom's not here- and it just feels wrong. Not him, he's always felt "wrong" and love doesn't give a crap about "wrong", or "right" for that matter. I should have told her. I should have told her days ago, and now I can't tell her. I can't send her off into brain surgery- or whatever they have to do- freaking out about Spike._ She began methodically removing her clothes, wishing she could shed her stress like she shed the fabric.

Spike took off his duster and boots in her bedroom, still watching her every move. He so often had, and never got tired of it. Watching the little nuances of her body, the way she rolled her slender shoulders out of a shirt, the way she shook out her hair before unhooking her bra. Silent and strained, something they'd never been. Not that the strain was between them now.

_Maybe the right thing to do is offer to leave. Let her tussle with her thoughts._ He snorted internally. _Hell, no. That was for weaklings who couldn't take the tough times. Not like me. Not like us. _

Buffy gasped when naked muscles under alabaster skin pressed into her back, hands came around her slowly, not sexually despite the fact that they were undressed in her bedroom. His mouth lingered twice on the side of her cheek and then once on her neck. "Glad you're here." Buffy whispered.

"I'm always gonna be here." Spike reminded her, and let her loose, watching her crawl into bed, waiting to see which way she lay.

But that's no bloody indicator, he smirked, recalling their seeming ability to make love in any position. Half of 'em he didn't think were technically positions, just the good fortune and extreme sex drive of two flexible beings in love. _Mm. Slayer Sutra. _

"You're smirking." Buffy smiled, even in the midst of everything bombarding her tired mind.

"I was lookin' at you. Smirk happens." He slid in beside her, spooning her.

"Then you must look at me every other second of the day, because you smirk a _lot_." She teased weakly, resting her head back on his shoulder, looking up at him.

"Oh, I do. See you all the time. Right here." He tipped his forehead down bumping it to hers.

"You're sweet."

"Don't let it get around." The smirk gentled.

"Part of the secret." Buffy said lightly, but her face clouded, eyes drifted away from his. _I can't tell Mom how he's changed. Except he's changed for love. I can't say there's no more chip, but there's a soul. That I didn't care if he changed anyway, loved him before. He loved me too. She never thought I was good at being in love. Too young, too stupid, easily tricked._ She huddled closer to Spike, eyes shut tight. _Maybe I'm not smart like she wants. But I know what's important. _

She opened her eyes when she felt him shifting behind her, reaching past her. "Wha-?"

"Shhh. You keep gettin' all tensed up. Not that I blame you. Never fall asleep like this, and you gotta be back at the hospital early." He was searching around by touch on her nightstand.

"You're tense too." She rolled over to face him, making him push his shoulder over hers to keep up his search. "You really like my mom, huh?"

"Always liked her."

There was more that he wasn't saying, and she knew it was probably something about her mom, or his mom. She didn't push it. He'd said thing went badly. He'd said he'd talk about it - someday. Today didn't feel like "someday".

"Turn over." He was nudging her shoulder.

"You are such a space hog."

"I'm not!"

"You are, _my_ space. Always." Buffy tried to smile for him, lighten up for him. It was true though, the two of them, no matter what position they went to sleep in, seemed to wake up pasted together.

"Roll over, you stubborn little thing." Spike growled with the same "trying to be playful" tone.

"What are we doing?" Buffy let herself be pushed off her side, face now snuggled in her pillow.

"Relaxing you. Worked before." A cold squirt of something hit her between the shoulder blades and she yelped. "Sorry, Heart. I'd warm it up but-"

"You suck at having body heat?" She snickered, folding her arms under her head.

"I've got plenty. Just none of it mine." Her smoothed the body lotion he'd found down her shoulders, down her back, cupping her small, round cheeks at the end of his journey. "Mmmm. Hot indeed."

She waited to feel him parting her, gently probing fingers- and nothing. Soon she stopped expecting it, just enjoying the feel of hands rubbing and kneading her, floating away on an appreciative thought of "I'm so lucky. How many guys give totally random back rubs? And on the Slayer side note, how many can actually make me feel anything past skin level?" "Ahhhhh. You're the best."

"I know." Her calf swung up, between the spread legs straddling him and jarred his bits. "I mean, thank you."

"I didn't mean to get you there." Buffy attempted to roll over to look at him apologetically, but his hands won out.

"No worries. Not hard enough to hurt. You could be a lot rougher, any time you like." Which she had been at times, riding him hard, dragging her teeth up and down him. His cock twitched hungrily, but just as quickly lost interest. His girl was forcing herself to perk up and he was all about a lack of force. _Honey's sweeter when it's a gift, when it's poured out with love. _

Buffy gave into the rhythm of his hands, push-pull, knead-twist, smooth down, heels of his hands slowly pushing back up to her neck. He must've done that for twenty minutes, maybe it was forty, she got lost in her thoughts and then lost them, until the worry was some cloudy mist tucked away for tomorrow. The next thing she was aware of was a kiss on her shoulder, and his familiar form beside her. "Hmm?"

"Night, Luv."

"Are we done?" Buffy asked in a sleepy, puzzled voice.

"Thought you were conkin' out."

"I was." Buffy moved against him, soft relaxed muscles lazily draping over him. "But we always-"

"Not tonight. You don't need to act like you want to. Not wet enough, Pet." His nostrils twitched.

Buffy rolled her eyes. "I don't think I'm ever going to get used to the sniffing thing." Then she pouted, "And of course I am."

"You're not exactly..." How to put this? "The night's not right. Even if we are. We don't always have to."

"I know that, Spike." She sat up, voice rising.

"Oh, there goes all that nice relaxin' massage effort." He groaned.

Buffy glared. "I want to. I want you. Don't you want to?" A sudden glimpse of fear in her eyes, in her voice.

"Permanently want to." Spike chuckled in spite of himself. "I jus' wanted to remind you, I'm not either of the ex-bastards. I'm- _We're_ serious. Aren't we?"

"Soul mates." Buffy whispered, nodding.

"If it's the real deal, don't need to be with you, inside you. It's enough to just lie down with you. Feel like I'm always inside, anyway." He pressed his fingertips over her heart.

Buffy scooted herself just within kissing range, lips moving against his chin. "You are. I am, too. With you. Heart." _His heart._ She smiled up, eyes wet at the corners. "It's been a bad day. Spike..." Her stupid voice let her down, cracked in half, "it's been a really bad day."

"I know, I know, Precious." Mouths met, only pulling apart for him to say, "I was tryin' to make it better."

"You did." Wetness escaped the corners, trailed down her cheeks. "I thought there was nothing left to be afraid of if we had each other and I was stupid and forgot about losing anyone else..."

"I will _not_ let you lose her, Buffy!" Spike shook her arms slightly, folding her up to his chest, then rolling on top of her, peppering her wet cheeks with kisses.

"You can't make promises like that."

Damn her and their honesty. "I promise I'll do everything I can."

"Then that's enough. Almost enough." She nuzzled her tear stained face to his. "Wet enough now?"

"I love you, hate when your'e hurt." He clutched her, nodding alongside her face. "I don't know what to say this time." _I know all about mums being ill. An' I don't want to talk about it. Is it selfish? Or protective? Or- where's she going?_ "Buffy?" She wriggled suddenly down under the covers.

"If you don't know what to say- stop talking."

"I'm s'posed to distract you." He protested. Once. Once her mouth was on him, he ran out of protesting fuel. He ran out of words. She was using him to distract herself, passionately tonguing her way down him, enthusiastically, hard, almost inhaling him. He heard her cough once on him, then dragged her up, almost roughly.

"Enn!" Buffy made a startled squeak.

_What gets into that head sometimes? _He stroked his hand across her chin."Don't go so hard you hurt yourself." Spike blinked at her in surprise. _All soft an' sleepy, then she's damn near swallowin' me whole like a tigress and a chunk of raw meat._

"It didn't hurt. Just went a little deep." Buffy blushed.

"That's _my_ job." Spike stroked his wet shaft and crown twice on the outside of her lips then pushed in to the hilt, making her gasp and shudder, eyes startled wide before falling shut. Wetness locked inside instantly unleashed, bathing him, letting him go deep as he wanted.

"Oh God. Oh. Wow._ Wow._" Mind followed where muscles had already gone, numbing grief and fear, focusing only on the sensation of him driving home. Harsh pants against her cheek, clinging hands, tight thigh muscles pressing against hers.

"Yeah?" He lifted his head from her shoulder to look into her eyes.

She swallowed. There was a lot to say inside that floaty half-asleep mind. How much she loved him for trying to help her relax, take her mind off her fear and her worry, try to make things good for her, and make it clear he wasn't with her for the physical pleasure. That she was freaking out on multiple levels and he could still make it better. She swallowed again.

"I get it." He murmured, and locked his wrists under her neck, putting them flat against each other.

"Love you for it."

* * *

"Joyce, the mass is very small. Now, if it's malignant, we obviously need to treat it. If it's benign, there's the possibly it's actually more like a fluid-filled cyst that we can drain to relieve the pressure that's causing headaches. You might have occasional headaches from a cyst, but usually cysts are not life-threatening and can be easily controlled."

"A cyst? That would be better, wouldn't it?" Joyce looked hopefully at Buffy, clutching her hand tightly, and then nodding to the doctor.

"Well, I hate to have people live with any pain, minor or not, but I always hope for clean results from a biopsy. Obviously without the biopsy, I can't tell you what it is. I'm just trying to make you aware of possible scenarios." Dr. Kiner stood and moved around his desk, directing their attention to Joyce's MRI scans on the small illuminator screen. The mass is here," he gestured to the area under her temple and farther back towards her ear, "and as you can see, it's just a dot here. In some cases, for a biopsy, we just go and perform surgery and completely remove the tumor."

"I like that. I-I think tumor removal sounds good. Right? Mom?" Buffy stumbled over words in her relief that someone actually had said what she'd been thinking- just cut the bad thing out of her mom!

"Let Dr. Kiner speak, Buffy." Joyce smiled tightly, although her heart was hammering. Brain surgery. _Oh my God, _brain surgery_? How did this happen to me, I just thought I needed some more sleep and a few aspirin._

"I appreciate the sentiments, but what I was getting at was because of how tiny this growth is, if it is malignant, we might be able to use radiation and chemotherapy to shrink and obliterate the tumor without a completely invasive procedure. What I'd like to do to collect the biopsy is a procedure called stereotaxis, which is much less invasive. Instead of needing to open the skull-" both women winced visibly there, "we simply drill a small hole, insert a needle, collect a sample from the mass. We _may_ need to do a complete tumor removal, using surgery. But my philosophy is to start with minimally invasive procedures first."

"I like the sound of that." Joyce smiled warmly. _No I don't. I don't like the words "open the skull" and I don't like the words "drill a small hole". But the less invasion in me the better._ "When can you do this- stereotaxis?"

"I have a clear spot in the OR this afternoon. I'll get a nurse in here to explain the procedure more thoroughly and discuss the prep with you. Then you can return to your room."

"Thank you, Dr. Kiner." Joyce extended her hand.

"Yeah, thank you, Dr. Kiner." Buffy followed her mother's example, a little lost and disoriented, manners far on the back burner. _But Mom keeps it together. A lot you don't appreciate about someone until you see them under pressure, different kinds of pressure._

The doctor left, and they were alone together. "I hope they don't say I shouldn't eat before this- biopsy." Joyce struggled over the scary word. "I had a huge blueberry muffin."

"Lucky." Buffy teased halfheartedly. Spike made her eggs. They spent the night in her room, in her bed, mostly silent figures making love several times, trying to drown their worries. They could have made all the noise in the world, and somehow neither was very verbal. "Must be something wrong in the world when that happens.", Buffy mumbled to herself.

"What, Sweetie?" Joyce asked, distracted herself.

"You- uh- you got muffins. From Anya?"

"Two dozen." Joyce grinned absently. "She's so sweet."

"Anya? Sweet?" Buffy began to worry for her mother's health in a whole new way. _Oh no. The tumor thingy is making her crazy. _

"Don't you think she's sweet?" Joyce frowned in concern at her daughter.

"I- I think she's great, Mom. Funny, honest, treats Xander really well, loves him so much, tries to help out all she can... honest, did I say honest?"

"You just don't see the softer side. She's really got a lot of wisdom, Buffy." Joyce said thoughtfully. "Although you're right, sometimes she does sound like a professor who's examining some new species when she talks about us. The way she says 'humans do such and such'..."

"Ha." Buffy laughed weakly, once, not wanting to remind her mother just how right she was about Anya having "species" issues. "She's crazy about you too, Mom."

"I like her a lot. You know, if she were just a little older- are you alright, honey?" Buffy had just coughed loudly, apparently choking on nothing.

_Anya's a thousand plus. Geez Mom_. "Anya? Older?" Buffy managed to croak. "Mom, in Sunnydale appearances mean squat."

"I know that," Joyce sighed, "I know Anya's - different. I just meant, if she looked a little older- well, actually I don't know. She sort of is rediscovering the world, it makes sense she's youthful. All I meant was, she and I could be good friends."

"You still can be. She's got mega loyalty, and that's friend rule number one. You should see her at your store, Mom. She's so thrilled to help you out, and she's down with the business end of things. She loves selling, and with Spike and Tara helping her- well, I think I should get a convertible, now that you're going to be rich."

"Ha ha. I think I'll ask the nurse if they can check your head too."

"Funny, Mom."

Silence came back down, light moment suddenly gone with the grim words.

"Um. Was Giles around today?"

"Yes, even before visiting hours." Joyce smiled with a faint blush on her cheeks. "I wonder how he managed to sneak in so early?"

"Oh, you know Giles. He's been here so often he probably has his own name tag and passcode." Buffy joked.

"Mm." Joyce nodded. Small talk had become increasingly difficult with her daughter, almost nonexistent over this first year of college. The worse the situation, the more strained the conversation. "What did you do last night?"

Buffy jumped in her chair. _Spike. Couple of times. _"Patrol. Home. Sleep." She shrugged. "Light on the sleeping." She stroked her mother's hand. "I hated thinking about you in here."

"Mr. Giles stayed until I fell asleep. Whatever they gave me for pain was strong enough to knock out a bear, Buffy. I slept fine." Joyce moved a piece of hair from Buffy's eyes, and felt a rush of maternal worry. "I know you were fine at college, and you've been home alone overnight before, and you're all grown up," she sighed deeply, "but I was worried about you being all alone in the house."

"Oh Mom... don't worry about me, just get better, okay?" Buffy pleaded.

"I'm a mom, Sweetheart. Worrying about my baby is natural." Joyce chewed her lip, hazy memories of late last night. "Honey, listen to me. I don't want you to get upset but... Spike seems to be hanging around you. A lot."

_Oh not now. Don't do this now. Please._ Joyce stared at her patiently. _Of course now. It's Mom. Queen of Getting A Clue at the Worst Possible Time._ "Yeah, he's a- a Scoobie. Sort of." _Spike, please forgive me for saying that_.

"He's a _vampire_."

_He's a good one. But no, he isn't supposed to be, not exactly, not to the world. Anyway, that excuse doesn't work on her, since Angel kinda messed up the "good vampire" rationale._ "I know that, Mom."

Joyce was flummoxed. "Well- well... how can you say he's a 'Scoobie' then?"

"Don't you like him?" Buffy did a semi-dodge.

"He's very nice. _Recently_."

"I told you you could trust him with your life." Buffy said seriously.

"But not with my purse." Joyce reminded her sharply.

"Okay, you can trust him with your purse, too. But not hot chocolate or alcohol." Buffy considered thoughtfully.

"This isn't a joke, Buffy." Joyce crossed her arms.

"I know that, Mom."

Joyce was flummoxed again. Buffy wasn't babbling or avoiding or even trying to explain. "Fine. He's a _Scoobie_." Joyce conceded. "You don't think he's an unusual choice?"

"I think he's an unusual person."

"He's not even a person."

"He's half a person." Buffy blinked suddenly. "And so am I."

Joyce dropped her hands that had been clenching angrily. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying... Slayers aren't whole people, Mom. Slayers are ... hollow. Empty. Alone."

"No, Baby." Joyce shook her head. _I will not leave her alone. I've always been the one who stayed, when her father pushed us away, when she got in trouble- oh God, I pushed her away too. I didn't mean it. I didn't understand slayers or slaying, and now that Rupert and Buffy are trying to explain- well, it can't be too late. _ "No, you're-"

"I'm supposed to be, Mom. I'm not supposed to be a 'regular person'. Slayers are meant to live alone and die young." Buffy smiled, a twisted twitch, not a real smile. "But I'm different. I have friends, and we work together. I have a family, my Watcher is more like a dad than some kind of overseer... I can still love people. That's what makes me whole."

Joyce blinked and rubbed her aching temple, the dull throb beginning to come back as she tried to process what her daughter had just said, what Rupert had told her, what Anya had told her. "I do want you to be whole."

"I want you to be that way, too." Buffy replied, not sure what she meant by that, only knowing when she looked at her mother, she knew something was wrong. She wasn't well. She had her own pieces missing.

Joyce released a tired sigh that made her shoulder shake. "I can't be whole without my little girl being okay."

"Same deal with my mom." Joyce stood, and Buffy sank into her arms.

The subject was opened. It wasn't over. But both of them seemed to know it was tabled for now.

The office door opened. "Mrs. Summers? Are you ready?" The nurse poked her head in.

"Ready?" Joyce asked Buffy with a brave little twinkle in her eye. Buffy's hand tightened on hers, and Joyce felt the strength in her, her bones complained for a moment before she reined herself in.

"We're ready." Buffy agreed, same fighting gleam mismatched with a melancholy smile.

* * *

"Are they preparing her for surgery? Am I too late?" Giles limped slightly as he hurried down the hallway.

Anya tossed down the magazine she was holding up to her face and bolted up from her chair as she shook her head. "They are, and you're not."

"Anya! You were supposed to mind the store!" Giles gasped stopping short.

"Tara and Willow are there. I said I would come before the surgery, and they'd come wait with Buffy during. We figured you and Spike would be here the whole time, and after. You know. As the boyfriends."

"Yes. Erm." Giles was still getting used to being called that. "Is Spike here?"

"I think he's raiding the blood bank."

"Oh honestly." Giles rolled his eyes and sat down, wincing slightly as his knees bent.

"What's the matter with you?" Anya asked with her characteristic lack of preamble.

"Late night. Scraped knees." Giles muttered.

"Xander was out late. He said he was with you. And I trust him." _Because he chose me. He wants to get old and wrinkly with me. If a guy says that- it's love. Or a good lie. Xander sucks at lying. So I'm going with love._

"As you should." Giles nodded, then sighed and rolled up his khaki colored trouser leg, a most undignified thing to do. He hadn't worn shorts since excavating in Egypt and only on days when the heat was over a hundred and ten degrees. Oh, and that one foray into jogging, which was to be forgotten.

"Ooh. Ouch. What exactly did you scrape your knees on?" Anya looked at the strips of white medical tape and yellow dabs of antiseptic.

"Some very sturdy, sharp tumbler shards. Xander brought me back to the hospital to get the glass removed." He admitted bashfully, then smiled with a faraway look in his eye. "I was able to see Joyce earlier because of it though." _As in before she was actually awake the first time through._

"Me, too. I bought her muffins." Anya curled the magazine in her hands. "Muffins seem inadequate in a situation like this."

"But nutritious." Giles reached over and patted her hand briefly.

"Breakfast is the most important meal of the day." Spike's voice preceded him as he entered the waiting area in Joyce's wing, tossing a crumpled plastic bag with crimson streaks on it into the waste basket.

"Spike, I can't believe you would do such a thing." Giles scolded, though privately thinking he most certainly could.

"Why? He needs to eat. And it was donated." Anya shrugged.

"Knew I liked you." Spike sat down beside her. "It was A positive and about to go off. Most common type in the world and now they won't have to waste it." He looked around anxiously, hands shifting inside his pockets for the cigarettes he couldn't have in here. "How's it goin'?" He jerked his pointed chin down towards Joyce's room.

"The nurse lady was in there. They're shaving part of her scalp, then they give her an I.V. to put her under, then they take her to an operating room to drill a hole through-"

"We get the idea, Anya, thank you." Giles' stomach, which had withstood tortures and vivid pictures of demons in all their perversities, suddenly seemed to turn inside out. It had never been Joyce on the other side of the equation before, not when he loved her. And now knowing what Xander had shared... The Watcher's eyes fixed on Spike, who was bashing a copy of the local paper into a ball in his nervous energy. "How's Buffy?" He asked, trying to keep his voice somewhat indifferent, trying not to let his own worry show through.

"Beatin' herself up, worryin' herself sick." Spike looked at the ball of newsprint in his hand. "Can't say I blame her. Mum's are... there's no one like your mum."

"No." Giles agreed softly, memories of his own dear departed one flooding back. Anya sniffed in loudly and excused herself.

"It's gotta be alright, doesn't it? I mean, Slayer's the one who gets the rough deal, Joyce isn't s'posed to have anything bad happen to her." Spike mumbled quietly.

"Yes, if only the universe played fair." Giles scoffed.

"That'll be the day." Spike joined him in the same tone. There was nothing more to say to than that. Not at the moment, anyway.

"Guys? Mom's gonna go in in a few minutes." Buffy walked into the waiting room, a stiff smile on her face. "Where's Anya?"

"Started talkin' about mothers an' she legged it." Spike rose and put his arms around her. "You alright?"

"Fine." Buffy lied. "Mom said she didn't want to see anyone but me right now." She looked nervously at Giles, watching the hurt bleed through, outrunning the usually calm exterior.

"Why would she say that?" Giles rose.

"Her hair. They didn't take off much but she's making a big deal of it."

"Excuse me." Giles set his jaw and pushed past her gently but firmly.

"Giles!" Buffy exclaimed. "Giles!" The older man was marching down the hall, and Spike was holding her back. "Spike, Mom's feeling really embarrassed right now about seeing people! They put her in a baggy blue nightgown thing- with nothing under it, and she's got her hair all pulled back in this cap thingy and no make up and no jewelry-"

"And he thinks she looks beautiful. He'll always think she's beautiful. 'Cause when you're in love, you think that." Spike tugged her back into his arms as she tried to go after Giles. He lovingly traced her forehead with the ball of his thumb, looking into her eyes. "The only time the Watcher'll ever be unhappy about your mum's face is when he doesn't get to see it."

* * *

Joyce gasped when the door was flung open with a bang. "Rupert!" She pulled the sheet up to her chin, one hand immediately going to her hair.

"You are a very stubborn, silly woman, and I've called you worse." Giles yanked off his glasses and sat down on the side of her bed as she gaped at him.

Joyce dropped her sheet with a startled cry, "Rupert, I told Buffy I-"

"Oh, to hell with what you told her. You are stunning to me. And- you look good in blue." He slid his hand along her neck and cupped her chin, one thumb on it to hold it still, before kissing her, nice and hard, just once, before pulling back.

All the fire and heat of his brash action faded. "I- um. I can go now. I just wanted to give you a kiss for luck."

Joyce touched her lips, then his cheek. "I'm used to feeling like the old, unattractive woman. Happens when you find your husband constantly chased after younger, more beautiful girls." She whispered, still feeling very exposed, but somehow wanting to explain why she pushed him away.

"Younger perhaps, but no more beautiful." He kissed her again, more gently, more sweetly. "Have I ever told you," he pulled back, licking his lips, and tracing her smooth, pale cheek, "that your ex-husband deserves to be drawn and quartered?"

Joyce laughed, "No... but feel free to tell me as often as you like."

"Mom? Can we come in?" Buffy's voice sounded muffled and the pair in the hospital room could hear shoving and Anya's determined cry of "But I have to go back to the shop soon!"

"Was I really being silly? And who's 'we'?" Joyce patted her cap and asked Giles.

"You were indeed. Anya, as you can hear, and Spike make up the 'we

at the moment."

"Spike?" Joyce sighed. "Rupert- promise you'll keep an eye on him for me?"

"I promise to watch him." Giles kissed her hand. _Watch over him, and Buffy. After all, he will be my son-in-law one day._ He blinked._ If my vision was the correct one. It _must_ be the correct one._

"Come in. First one to make any cracks gets a fire ax to the head." Joyce called.

Spike chuckled and winked at her as he entered. "She means it, too. Never cross this lady."

Joyce managed to chuckle in return, even in spite of her reservations about the vampire.

There was another tap on the door. "Mrs. Summers? We're going to take you to pre-op now."

All the air went out of her lungs, out of all their lungs. "One minute, please." Giles asked softly. The nurse nodded and stepped back into the hall.

Anya gave Joyce a hug that threatened to topple her from the bed. "Please be okay. Don't worry about the gallery, it's in good hands. Oh, and Buffy told us you were worried about your hair." She bent down and whispered, still too loudly unfortunately, "Don't worry, I found this whole article about sexual play and wigs. I think you'd make a great red headed temptress. I have a dress you can borrow."

Spike coughed and Giles polished his glasses spasmodically. Buffy moaned and put her head in her hands.

"Wrong time?" Anya whispered.

"Not in front of Rupert. He won't be surprised now." Joyce winked and patted her friend's back as she released her.

"Mother!" Buffy yelped.

A lens popped from its frame and skittered across the floor. "Oh dear." Giles chased after it.

"Wow. We always joked about that happening, but you really did it." Buffy looked at her mother and Anya with an open mouth.

"Always thought the honor would be mine." Spike quipped with a mock-disappointed sigh.

With a smile and wave, Anya apologized and backed from the room.

"I'll be toddlin' off then." Spike bent to buss Joyce's cheek. She was startled, he could feel her tense. He spoke in a true whisper, a whisper that hunters use, reaches just where they want it to, and only who they want it to. Joyce almost felt like the words were coming from inside her head instead of against her ear. "Don't worry. 'Specially not about Buffy. I promise, nothin' will happen, not if I can help it. You're one of the good ones, Joyce. Gonna be just fine."

Joyce squeezed his arm briefly and watched him rise, pass Buffy with a subtle look, subtle brush of his hand to her back that she almost missed, even while watching him. Buffy relaxed at even the merest contact. With a slight frown, she turned her attention to Giles.

"See you in a little while, my love." He murmured. He glared at Buffy who turned her back at the hint, and kissed her fondly. "I'll be here when you wake up."

"Thank you, Rupert." She kissed him back.

At last, only her daughter remained. "Okay. Well. Um. The nurse is frowning at me."

"This isn't a big deal. An hour at the most, and then an hour to wake back up." Joyce smiled and lay back. "Don't worry."

"I'll try." Buffy hugged her mother tightly and let the nurse come in, this time with an orderly and a gurney. She stood in the doorway and watched her mother placed on the other bed, stood and stared as they wheeled her away through a stainless steel door she couldn't follow her through.

"These are going to be the longest two hours of my life."

* * *

"Six hours. How long does it take to look at some fluid?" Xander demanded. "It's a hospital! Full of smart people and microscopes and machines_ made_ to look at fluids."

"Sit down." Willow urged.

"I can't!"

"Please try. You're giving me motion sickness." Anya held out her hand, and Xander took it, let himself be pulled to a seat.

"Joyce is out of surgery okay, and that's the main thing to focus on right now." Tara, hospital veteran, was surprisingly calm and clear.

"She's all loopy." Anya grumbled. "She called Giles 'Mr. Grant' and asked if he'd ever been to Philadelphia. I think it's contagious too, because he said something about sailing on the _True Love _, then kissed her."

"It's from one of Mom's favorite movies. They must have watched it together." Buffy sat down wearily on Spike's lap, and put her head on top of his, not caring at the moment if the whole world saw them. "it's almost dinnertime, guys. We've been here all day- I mean, some of us in shifts. You can go. I'll call when I hear anything."

"No." Was the resounding chorus.

"They've got hot food and super spotless bathrooms. Better than my parents' place." Xander joked.

"We wouldn't leave you. Worrying and waiting alone is the worst part." Tara said. "I know."

Willow took Tara's hand, eyes telegraphing silently, "You're not alone anymore."

"I think she's drifted off again." Giles reappeared in their midst, haggard looking, and minus his glasses.

"Sailed away on the _True Love_, has she?" Spike teased good naturedly.

"Ah, yes, we watched _The Philadelphia Story_ last week." Giles eased himself into a chair. "Why must all hospital waiting rooms be so uncomfortably equipped?"

"To take your mind off the nagging worry about loved ones while you're trying not to get bruised buns." Willow shifted stiffly.

"Don't think we'll have to sit much longer. That's the bloke, init, Slayer?" Spike saw a man in a lab coat walking toward them.

"Oh. Yeah. Dr. Kiner!"

"Oh, Miss Summers. I have your mother's preliminary biopsy results in. I was just going to go discuss them with her." The oncologist stepped back nervously as he found himself facing not just one daughter, but a small herd of young people- and one older man, must be the father.

"She's still groggy. She's just gone back to sleep." Giles explained.

"Ah. Well..." Hospital policy was to speak to the patient first. However, he wasn't made of stone, and the ring of faces, wearing anxious, hopeful, worried, pleading expressions by turn did him in. "Miss Summers, will you come with me to your mother's room?"

"Sure." Buffy's heart sank. If it was good, he'd tell them all, right, just blurt it out. It was bad.

She followed him, leaving a hole in the knot of people. Wordlessly, they sat, looking after her departing form. Xander locked eyes with Giles, and eventually Spike noticed it. He sat back and contemplated them both.

* * *

"Mom? Mom, are you awake?" Buffy whispered.

"Mhm." Joyce struggled to open her eyes. "Oh hi, Sweetie." She smiled warmly at the face above her, blurred though it was.

"Mrs. Summers, I just wanted to check on you." Dr. Kiner's face appeared before her.

The warm sleepy feeling left abruptly. "Do you have my results?" Joyce rapidly came to full alertness.

"Preliminary ones." Dr. Kiner sat down in the chair beside her bed, as the daughter perched on the foot of it. "But we don't need to discuss those right now. You're daughter wanted to talk about the results with me, and I figured we'd see if you were up for joining us." He smiled kindly, leaving out the part that he was about to talk to the girl regardless, couldn't bear to think of a half dozen youngsters pacing in agony.

"I'm awake and I may be a little bit 'medicated' but I want to know my results, right now." Joyce demanded.

"Mom, you don't have to-"

"Dr. Kiner, is this mass- cancerous?"

He nodded slowly. "I'm very sorry. It is malignant."

Buffy felt the room spin once, a haze of white walls and icky pastel curtains. She stiffened her back to keep from lurching off the bed.

"From the sample we think it's a slow multiplying cellular type, probably been growing for several months, although you wouldn't have felt anything until recently. However, you caught it early enough that it hasn't begun to reach the rapid growth stage."

"Thank God." Joyce, white as her gauze, whispered. "Can you- can it be treated?"

"Absolutely. Again, you caught this very early, and I'll be happy to map out some treatment options with you in the morning."

"In the morning? Now, why not now?" Buffy's voice blurted out, cracked and nervous.

"Well, I'd like your mother to get some rest before she makes any decisions."

"I'm rested enough." Joyce said firmly. "I'd like to hear the options, and I'll think about them overnight.

Dr. Kiner nodded, stared down by two unusually forceful pairs of eyes. "Based on what we saw, we think you'd respond to a three week course of radiation and then a six to twelve week course of low-dose chemotherapy. The other option is surgery, to remove the tumor completely, and then do a four to six week course of chemotherapy to wipe out any cells we missed to prevent the tumor from reforming."

"Reforming? Can't you get it all?" Buffy asked.

"We're confident we can. There's no guarantee however, until we open up and begin surgery. The way the tumor is laying- it's on the surface of the brain and penetrating some of the brain tissue itself. Cutting into that tissue is a very delicate operation, especially since the mass is so minute. We may be able to get to all of it, or we may have to leave a small amount if the brain tissue is endangered by the operation. That's another reason to follow up with a course of chemo, in case there are any remaining cancerous cells."

"Buffy, just let Dr. Kiner tell us the options, we can decide later what to choose." Joyce shushed her daughter before she could speak again.

"Both options are regarded as safe, but both come with risks. Obviously with chemo and radiation there are the usual side effects of nausea, hair loss, lowered immune system response. Surgery also carries risks, any surgery does. There are going to be risks of post-operative complications, infections, healing time, rare instances of neurological damage or aneurysms, reactions to anesthetic..." Dr. Kiner looked at them seriously. "The main thing is, we _can_ treat this and because of early detection- I think you can beat this."

Joyce nodded her agreement. "Thank you. Thank you for catching it, and giving us some options."

"I have pamphlets and disclosure statements about the risks of various treatment plans." Kiner sat them on the small tray attached to the bed. "I'll be in to see you at nine tomorrow, we'll make a plan, and go from there. Any questions?"

"Yes. How does this happen?" Joyce asked, brows drawing together unhappily. "I don't smoke. I don't drink often. I don't think my lifestyle is amazingly 'pure and organic', but it's pretty healthy, and cancer doesn't run in my family."

"I honestly can't tell you, Mrs. Summers. There's a questionnaire in the packet I'm giving you, asking about your habits, your lifestyle, the location you live and work in. We'd like to know more about what caused this tumor as well. It's unusual for a woman who's your age and in such good physical health to suddenly have this type of cancer. But it can happen. Although I'm glad to say it doesn't run in the family." He looked at Buffy with a reassuring smile.

Buffy's head jerked back, a sudden whisper invading her mind. _Family. I'm not supposed to have a family. Not as the Slayer._ She heard the growling hiss of her ancient predecessor. _"First to last, all the same. All alone. No names from parents, no names called by friends, no names from lovers' mouths. Slayer only. You have no other name, you are nothing else. Death is your gift. You kill. Your victims call you Slayer. No one else says your name. You lose it. You become only Slayer."_

"H-how long do you think this has been happening? Growing?" Buffy asked hoarsely.

"From the sample, several months. We can't be exact."

_She tried to take them all from me. All of them who were attached to me in the spell. Mom was in the dream. Not attached, but in the dream._

Memories of her mother's face behind a half-torn wall, the scuffling sound from inside. _Left her alone there. To chase after Xander. I had to find Xander, but I was coming right back..._

* * *

_"Hi Sweetie." Joyce's serenely smiling face peered from a hole in the plastered wall. _

_ "Mom, why are you living in the walls?" Buffy clutched at the broken wood surrounding her mother's face. The primal instinct disappeared, replaced by something just as strong. Love, protection. "C'mon you have to get out of here. Something- something's hiding where you can't see it and it'll- it'll find you."_

_ "Oh, Sweetie, no, I'm fine here. Don't worry about me."_

_ "But I do." She wrung her hands. "I hide a lot of stuff, but I don't want to. I just want you to be safe."_

_ "It's very safe in here. "_

_ Buffy looked inside the small opening. "It looks dirty." She looked frantically over her shoulder. "Mom, please, get out of there. I have to hide things from you- to protect you. A-and me. All of us. But you don't have to hide things from me."_

_ "Oh, Honey." Joyce reached a hand to caress her daughter's cheek. "I already do."_

_ Buffy stepped back, stung. "What?"_

_ "Hm?" Joyce gave her a sweet, innocent smile._

_ "Never mind. I just think you're not safe here." Buffy looked down the hall. the destruction seemed closer now, like something was creeping, stalking._

_ "Well, it seems that way to you." Joyce continued to project that vague smile, continued reassuring with a motherly coo in her voice. "But it's not me she's after. Now, you run along. I made some lemonade, and I'm learning how to play mah-jong. You go find your friends."_

_ Buffy looked over her shoulder yet again. "I- I think they might be in danger."_

_ Joyce let out a stifled chuckle and Buffy stared at her in confusion. "I-I'm sorry, dear." She giggled. "A mouse is playing with my knees."_

_ Buffy thought she saw a flicker of glaring, glinting eyes through the wall boards, something around knee-level. Something hunting, prowling. "I- I really don't think you should live in there."_

_ " Well ... you could ... probably break through the wall." Joyce finally conceded._

_ Buffy nodded, drawing back for a kick- and caught a fleeting glimpse of Xander heading up the stairs in the opposite direction, away from the destruction._

_ "Xander! Xander! I have to find him, Mom, hang on a second."_

* * *

_ Then I never went back to her. Oh my God. I left her alone. _

_ No, not _alone_. I left my mom, in some mindscape, with the First Slayer, also known as Psycho Sineya._

_ But there were lots of people in the dreams. Was Mom really there or not? Could Sineya hurt her, or not? _

_ She couldn't get to Spike, or Giles. Or Willow, Xander, or Tara, we made it through. Anya's not involved, she was on the periphery, not a close friend, not as close as we are now anyway, and not involved in the spell. But my mom... My mom is my _mother_, all my family. Proof I'm not alone. _

Buffy listened numbly as the doctor and her mother spoke about forms of cancer, growth rates, recurrences, remissions, prognosis, going in a fast forward through the dream, through all the dream parts they'd shared.

_ She wanted to take them all, and I saved them all. They helped save me. We saved each other._

_ I can't protect her from cancer. Something growing inside her head. _

Her green eyes, widened, stricken, and watched her mother smooth a hand over the blood stained gauze on her brow.

_ So someone's trying to hurt one of the closest ones... someone I didn't save._

Her eyes narrowed, focused in. Anyone who knew Buffy would have said she just went into Slay-mode. _Correction. Someone I didn't save _yet.

* * *

_To be continued..._


	10. Part IX

**Unknown **

**By Sweetprincipale**

_This is set in my non-canon, but canon-esque series following Uncontrollable and Unmentionable. If you haven't read those first, please do, or this won't read nearly as well or make much sense. Unknown begins a few weeks after the end of Unmentionable, around the beginning of season five._

_Author's Note: Okay, contrary to yesterday's posting (wow, that was fast) I just had to write this up and post it. NOW, after this I may not be able to post for about ten days as I'll be away and insanely busy. (Although I may try to squeeze in something, it all depends on free time and internet connection.) Would love an extra helping of reviews to keep me from missing my FF. Net readers and friends!_

_Author's Second Note: A lot of emotional upheaval here. Given the situation and the pressure they're under, including all the big secrets they're carrying around, I think it's appropriate. _

_Author's Third Note: HEAVY smut warning. Vampiric smut. You were warned, skim if you gotta. _

_Dedicated to: ginar369, omslagspapper, Dlillith21, Alexiarrose, Sirius120, Rosalea12, MaireAilbhe, Cavementftw, Jackiemack916, Illusera, Jewel74, Touch the Dark, rororogers, Lil-Leti, and kerry220._

_Direct Quotes are obviously not mine, but belong to the fabulously talented and creative people who wrote them. In this case, some of season five's dialogue will be used. _

_**Disclaimer: Nothing of Buffy belongs to me, except my sincere admiration. However, this story is all mine.**_

**Part IX**

"Well, it has to be bad, doesn't it?" Spike said what they were all thinking, speaking in a gruff voice, extra thick on the gritty tough guy. Stopped him from choking up if he was already rasping out words. "How long does it take to say 'you're all clear'? If she was fine, we'd hear Buffy squeakin' away clear down the hall."

"But they can treat it, right? People have things cut out, or burnt off or something? Or pills?" Anya looked helplessly at Xander, who nodded and tucked her under his arm. "Why can't we go in?"

"Because this is a very difficult moment." Giles said quietly, evenly. His eyes were fixed on the ever present television screen in the waiting room corner. Behind his gaze, however, was a scene he'd played every day since he had the dream, been "gifted" with his vision._ Any moment now- Buffy comes out, she smiles, she tries to act like it's going to be fine, and says, "It's cancer. It's a small brain tumor." And in a few moments after that, I go sit on the edge of Joyce's bed, the rest of them leave us alone, and I tell her I'll help however she needs me, too. _

He bowed his head for a mere second before returning his unblinking gaze to the television, ignoring the muffled discussions all around him, five guessing, wondering voices droning on like a swarm of worried bees, running through a high speed, blurry mental slideshow.

_There we are together, must be weeks from now- and she had that pretty head scarf on. There we are, stopping in at the store, and she sits in the back, Tara's hanging something and Xander's holding the ladder. That's another day, there's cake- dash it all, show me _why_ we have cake, what are we celebrating? There's the ring. There's the gold band. _

He turned his head with a sudden spasm. _Lies. Maybe all lies. No, not lies, what should have been, what will be. Goddamn the alternate "visions"._

"Giles? Giles, when do you think we can go in?" Willow asked timidly.

"Soon." He murmured, eyes not leaving the news.

"I-is something important happening?" Willow tried to make conversation, and she knew it was a weak effort. She could hear the newscaster herself, speaking about a local craft fair.

"Yes." He replied, not thinking of the program, thinking of his future, of all their futures, happy, sad, troubled, wonderful- perhaps all nothing more than mere "options" on some reality menu.

"Sweetie." Tara tugged Willow's sleeve.

"You like craft fairs?" Willow was trying to help him. He was all bottled up, all still, and silent. Sealed inside himself, and he had just been learning to open up. "I never would have thought that."

_Never would have thought that. Never would have thought I had a chance. That I'd find her. A family, a daughter, a son-in-law, grandchildren, a wife._ _My_ wife! _Never would've thought that, never would have believed it. _The anger and disbelief was pushing to the surface. Pressure from the inside pushing on that cork of the "bottled up" man. _Never _should _have thought that, never should have thought they'd give me a chance, now they're taking the chance away. Willow nattering on about crafts when Joyce might die, when all of the future I trusted in might unravel around us!_

"Of course I don't like craft fairs! That's news? That isn't news!" Giles exploded. Willow yanked her hand back like it was singed. He rose, grabbed the remote from the little metal ledge under the hanging set and started clicking it savagely. "Where's the BBC? They know what the hell is important! What's important in this world, and they report the story as it bloody well happens, they have a history of accuracy. Well researched coverage! They don't mess about with maybes and ifs, they say what _is_ happening! Dammit, this is only local stations!" Giles hurled the remote down, two batteries popping out of the back and rolling across the floor at his feet. The television went mute. In the stunned silence, all you could hear was wheezing, wheezing turning more punctuated, someone crying almost silently through his nose, and the faint chiming of an elevator down the hall.

_Oh my God. I've never seen that._ Willow pushed Tara behind her protectively, only to feel her slipping around her.

"Nnn!" Xander made a frantic shake of his head as Spike slowly and deliberately walked to Giles' side. Tara was coming from the back._ Don't touch him. Oh crap, it's all gonna come out, right here._

But it didn't. Tara wordlessly held out kleenex from her purse. Spike offered his flask. Anya bent and collected the batteries as they began drifting under the plastic seats.

Giles didn't take either. "I apologize." He whispered.

"For what, havin' feelings? I know it's not very British, but we _are_ ex-pats."

Tara began slipping away, and Giles reached out and caught her fingertips gently. "I am sorry." He didn't know much about her, but the way Willow seemed so protective of her, the way Tara seemed to almost physically shy away from raised voices, made him suddenly feel like some bombastic old creature.

"Wh-when my mom got sick- I broke every window in our old barn. Th- throwing rocks." Tara looked at her feet. "Just can't believe it's ha-happening... and s-something makes you so mad and you can't do anything but wait and pray."

"Woman you love is ill. Nothin' worse." Spike didn't love Drusilla now, though he had lingering memories of love and fondness, but he remembered Prague, remembered the weeks after. Firmly knowing, in your mind anyway, that if she dies, the world ends. If anything happened to Buffy- he shuddered inside. Well, the world _would_ end. And if it had the audacity to keep spinnin', he'd chuck himself off the edge of it.

"You know everything is going to be okay. This is just another battle on waiting to get crossed off the Scoobies' 'To Win' list." Xander said firmly.

"Yes. Yes, of course." He tried to collect himself. "I'm sorry. Willow, dear-"

"Oh don't worry! I like the BBC, too." Willow hugged him.

That was how Buffy found them, standing in a ring in front of a silent television, seeming to hold each other up. Spike broke off from the cluster and held her, arm around her back as she tried to smile bravely, "It's cancer. It's a small brain tumor."

In the ensuing crush, she managed not to cry, and explained, "The doctor says it's _totally_ treatable. Mom just has to decide a plan, and they'll start tomorrow. The nurse did give me the evil eye, and I think we have to stick to the rule of two visitors at a time now. Giles- Mom wanted you first."

"Then I shall go first." He squeezed her hand in passing. She didn't let it go. "Is there something else I need to know?" His throat tightened.

"Can I call a Scooby meeting at your place, as soon as we leave tonight?"

"Of course." Giles blinked.

"Good. Something I wanted to talk about."

* * *

"Buffy told you?" Joyce looked at Giles from a nest of pillows, through lined, darkened eyes.

"Yes, love." He slid under the wires on her hand, and seated himself on the edge of the bed.

"They can treat it."

"Thank God." He whispered fervently, reaching for the uninjured side of her head, smoothing curled, tangled hair back.

"Surgery is quicker. Chemo and radiation sounds safer."

"I'll help you with whatever you decide."

"Thank you." She tiredly took his hand and laid it weakly across her chest. "You were right."

"Hush now."

"No, you were. You said not to ignore it, and you were right."

Giles pressed a kiss to her wrist, letting his bowed head and sealed lips keep him from speaking, or letting her see the look in his eyes. _I hope I'm right about everything._

* * *

"Right then. Spill." Spike drove the car towards the pizza place closest Giles' flat, intending to pick up dinner for the Scooby meeting.

"It's not cancer."

"What?" Spike snapped his head around to look at her, and she screeched as his car rose several inches on the driver's side. "Bloody curb." He muttered and reversed. "What the hell is it then?"

"Sineya."

Spike took his hand off the gear shift, leaving the car idle on the side of the street. "What?" He said once more.

"I left her alone with my mother."

"Luv, you're not making any -"

"In the dream, Spike! I ran off to chase after Xander, and then Mom was in this ruined building, and the First Slayer was with her and I said I'd be right back and then I got sucked into the desert yadda yadda, the dream ended. I left her alone. I didn't go back and save her and we know Sineya can physically mess with a person. She made my mom sick."

Spike nodded, considering, then slowly shook his head. "No."

"What?"

"Dunno about you, but weren't there lots of people in the dream? I had some monk people-"

"You do have a soul. They were there. Somehow."

"Okay... but who else did you see?"

Buffy thought. "Riley. Adam. Cheese Man. High school kids. Angel."

"See? Real people had cameos. Dead people, too, Adam was already on the scrap heap. But they weren't 'in' the dream. Had to have called on the power of the Slayer, or you didn't get a ticket to the show."

Buffy considered. "But- it started around the same time. The doctor thinks. Several months ago."

"That could've been June, when we were all done. It could've been March, before the spell started."

"They can't explain what made Mom sick, and she wants to take her away from me!" Buffy suddenly snapped and kicked her foot down hard on his newly refurbished floor mats. "You- you're supposed to believe me, back me up! Not treat me like some little kid who doesn't know anything!"

"Whoa! Where the hell'd that come from? When've I ever not been on your side, Slayer?"

Buffy gave him an "Are you kidding me?" look.

"I mean recently!" He tossed his hands in the air. "I love you, I - I am yours, right or wrong, an' you're mine. I am always,_ always _gonna believe you. An' I never treated you like a little kid. You're no little girl. You're the Slayer an' you've got power, knew that before I even met you. Then when I did meet you- you were annoyin' as hell-"

"And you were _so_ pleasant." She rolled her eyes.

"Thank you, thank you." He managed to make her give him a half grin, and continued, "You were, an' are powerful an' you're strong, an' you think fast on your feet. Resourceful. Never doubted you were a winner."

"Spike..." Her voice got heavy, grateful to hear this when she felt so low, and she scooted close to him.

"Doesn't mean you're always right." He looked down at her as she looked up at him reproachfully. "I know whereof I speak."

With a sigh, she rested her head on his shoulder. "I still think it's possible. She kept telling me I was meant to be alone- and she couldn't take any of you. It makes sense she'd try to take Mom."

"Makes great sense. I just don't think it happened." He kissed her forehead with a sigh of his own. "I think you like to blame yourself. Think you think- if you _made_ a problem, you can _solve_ it."

Buffy was indignant, but silent. Then she punched him lightly in the side. "Hate you sometimes."

"I know." He rubbed his gut and pinched her arm, not _too_ hard.

"You don't think we'd better even look into it?" She demanded, that being her silent way of saying he had a point, but moving on, before his ego could swell.

"Hell no, let's look into it, let's get out the books, and raise the spirits, and channel the- the whatever." He reached for the wheel. "If my mum was sick, I'd look into everything, try anything." His pale face tightened, sharp cheekbones suddenly even sharper. "I did try everything, last resorts an' all..."

Buffy reached up, warm fingers caressing the hard lines, almost magically wiping them soft with her touch. "It still hurts so much, doesn't it?"

"Mhmm." He didn't trust himself to open his mouth.

"I'm sorry, Baby."

"I don't want you to have this pain. If there's anything I can do- I mean _anything_- to ever spare you that pain, you know I'll do it."

"I know. You know if I could make the pain hurt less for you, I would?"

He nodded. "You're special, Slayer."

"I'm yours." She reminded him.

"Maybe tonight, after it's all over for the day, you an' me can do a bit of pain relief?"

"Yes, please."

* * *

"Please don't put your feet on the coffee table." Anya said to Spike in a clipped voice.

With a strange look, the vampire slowly sat up. "Uh. Sure."

"Giles is too distracted to do his usual nagging. Tara, Willow- use napkins before you touch the books. Xander, what are you doing on the floor?"

"Looking for glass before someone sits here." He mumbled, puzzling most of the occupants of the room.

C'mon, everyone has a slice- or a mug. Now sit." Buffy hauled Willow's dream note/chart onto the coffee table and looked over it.

"Buffy, now is not the best night for research. We've all had a very long day. Or days." Giles sighed.

"Fine, then just listen. It's about mom and the dream."

Xander and Giles exchanged furious, swift glances. Spike slowly began to point to them, mouth opening, but Buffy was steamrolling on, pacing like a wounded rhino in a cage.

"In the dream, what did Psycho Slayer want?" Buffy demanded.

"To kill everyone but you, because we called upon her power, and used it together. And Slayers do the alone thing." Willow answered immediately.

"So she regarded it as a breach of contract and tried to 'fire' us all." Xander spat, crossing his arms. "Really not liking your sorority sisters, Buff."

"Why she's the best one there is. New improved model." Spike smiled at her proudly. "With accessories." He grudgingly gestured at the rest of them.

Buffy let out an impatient sigh. "Right, she didn't like anyone sharing 'her' power, or_ my_ life!"

"Slayers do typically live and function almost completely alone." Giles pointed out.

"So, since I don't, she tried to kill all of you. For being the heart of the group, the anchor for the power, the spirit, the mind, the friends, the- the lover." She flushed as she looked at Spike.

"Oh barf." Xander murmured and then forced a polite smile on his face.

"Shut up, you." Spike mumbled with a facsimile of a polite smirk since he couldn't manage a smile.

"Guys!" Willow shushed them both with an irritated little wave. "What's this have to do with your mom, Buffy?"

"Sineya's doing this to her."

"What?" Chorused all but Spike.

"It makes sense! We were all in the dream- Mom, too, just not connected to the spell. And Sineya saw her. I was talking to Mom, and Sineya was creeping around her. But then I left to go find Xander and never made it back."

" 'Cause we woke up, right?" Xander frowned. "Which means we won, we beat her."

"Right, in the battle for _us_- but I think while I was chasing you, Sineya got her. I mean-" she felt frustrated as she looked around all the disbelieving faces, "why not? She got in all of _our_ heads, why are you looking at me like I'm stupid for thinking she got in Mom's?"

"Because your mother wasn't in the shadow realm created by the aftermath of the spell. She and I were eating chocolate, drinking wine, and bonding." Anya said bluntly.

Buffy looked nonplussed for a moment. "Well... she was moving around inside of us, in our house, maybe she could drift outside of- no?" Tara was shaking her head gently.

"I know- when my mom got sick I wanted to find out why, what happened- like, if I found it, I c-could fix it." Tara explained. "B-but speaking as the speaker for Sineya," she licked her lips nervously, almost afraid to oppose Buffy, Buffy who was so brave and so strong and fought with her heart as well as her hands, "I didn't channel anywhere but us."

"I had other people in my dream that weren't _in_ the dream." Willow backed up Tara's explanation. "Oz."

"Jenny." Giles whispered.

"Anya." Xander added.

"But none of them are close to me!" Buffy spun and faced them, angrily.

"Hey!" Anya yelped, offended.

"Oh, not like as close as a mom!" Buffy clutched her very disheveled hair, hair that had been grasped, tugged, and twirled almost to the point of frizz during the long, horrible day of operations and waiting. "Giles-" she turned to her Watcher, who always took the cautious side, the "something is terribly wrong side", "what do you think?"

"I think you're right." He looked at her, through slightly uneven glasses. "Sineya would love to take your mother from you. She would love to take all of us, and force you to live the kind of painful lonely life she led." He rose, and walked to her, a tiny limp marring his gait. "But I know she couldn't access your mother. I know she wasn't connected to the spell, I know many people appeared to us who were important in our lives, but who ultimately- unfortunately, remain on the periphery of our lives. Lastly, I know that Sineya was a being of old ways. She choked Willow. She scalped me. She clawed Xander's heart. She tried to attack Spike with her bare hands, she tried to battle you in hand to hand, then stake you. I do not think she could create a slow growing cancerous mass in your mother's brain that would fool an oncologist, even one who works on a Hellmouth and is used to 'being fooled'."

Buffy's chest heaved. Guilt surged. Anger surged. Reason and rationale struggled forward feebly and she ignored them for the moment. "But... she's the only one close to me who I didn't protect in the dream. This is punishing me, for not protecting her." She whispered finally, looking into the weary hazel eyes in front of her.

"No. _You're _punishing you. For not keeping her closer. You know, as do I," he swallowed, speaking in a creaking husk of a voice, "that if your mother was as close as you say- she would have been in the calling circle with us. Sineya didn't attack her, because Joyce isn't close to you. We've become your family in the last few years, and Joyce- faded away. She wasn't there, because she's simply not that involved in your life, and you keep her that way."

Anger choked everything else, instincts to fight took over. Her hand flew, aiming at his cheek, open palmed, amid gasps and a lunge from Spike, reaching for her arm.

He needn't have worried. Giles' hand smacked into hers neatly, locking their hands in front of his face, some horrible sad mockery of arm-wrestling, between their noses. "I love her!" Buffy hissed furiously. "How can you say-"

"Say you pushed her to safety! How can you say you don't protect her when you've given so much to keep her safe?" He yanked her hand lower, shook off her grip.

"But- but I..." Buffy's face crumpled, humiliated, embarrassed, overwhelmed. Losing control. That's all this was, wasn't it? Losing control, finding another battle she couldn't physically fight. "But it's Mom. And if I'd been there... maybe this wouldn't have happened. Maybe it's my fault anyway."

"Shh, shh now." Giles pulled her close, head to his shoulder.

"I'm sorry I tried to slap you."

"You've knocked me out and punched me. I'm quite flattered it was a mere slap this time." He smiled faintly, eyes over her head, looking at the confused, slowly becoming less confused, faces behind her.

"Forgive me?" Buffy sniffled quietly.

"Of course. It's been a bad day for tempers."

"He got all He-Man about a craft fair." Willow provided.

"Threw a pretty mean glass curveball, too." Xander leaned against the redhead, taking her hand, needing best friend support as they watched the two most solid people they knew crashing in front of them.

Buffy laughed wetly and sniffed in as she stepped back. "I was mad. 'Cause you know- true." She looked at Giles from under downcast eyes.

"She punched me in the ribs earlier when _I _was honest. Makes a man long for the bad old days." Spike ached to pull her into his arms, but stopped himself. _Sometimes you just have to watch her fight. Even if it's fightin' herself._

"Humans have way too many mood swings. They make pills for that. Why don't we all take them? Mood stabilizers, they call them. Or 'happy pills'."

"You have to have something wrong with you before you can take those. Something in your serotonin or other biochemicals that makes you unbalanced." Willow explained.

Anya flung out her hand accusingly at the Watcher and Slayer. "This isn't unbalanced? He cursed out a remote control and she thinks ancient spirits can make cancerous free radical cells."

"Ahn..."

"Is this one of those socially awkward moments?"

"No." Tara shook her head. "Just life."

"I find life socially awkward." Anya sighed, bending down to retrieve a slice of pizza from under the barely begun dream chart and its attached notes.

"Amen to that." Spike watched Giles pull Buffy from the room, out the front door as the conversation unraveled. "Wanna sell some art tomorrow, ladies?"

"How do you feel about berets?" Anya asked him.

"Like you should shoot people who wear them unless they're in France." Spike snorted.

"Amen to that." Xander unthinkingly clinked his soda can to Spike's mug.

"Uh oh. Stand by for something wacky to happen. They were nice again." Willow teased.

"Shut up." Both men said good naturedly.

_Shit._

_ Crap._

* * *

"I win the prize for making an ass out of myself, huh?" Buffy hugged her arms around her chest, even though the last night of a California August wasn't cold.

"I have seven stitches in my left knee cap." Giles countered.

"I don't see the comparison." Buffy laughed faintly.

"I was upset last night. I threw down a glass- and promptly decided to kneel on it."

She nodded knowingly. "Ahhh. _Now_ I get why Xander said what he said."

"What'd he - no, never mind, I've had rather enough of people's comments today."

They watched lightening bugs dart across the hedges. Buffy followed one with her eyes as she spoke. "I still win. For being out of control and a jerk to you." Pain washed over her face, but she kept following the little ball of light. "I hated what you said. Because if something happens to her, and I pushed her away all this time, even for the sake of slaying and saving the whole world, well... Sineya still wins, doesn't she? Not a big win, not the win she wanted, not everyone, but one nice consolation prize. I mean, I tried to tell Mom earlier, and she did a lot of pushing away or denying or being too busy, but if they can't treat this like they say... and she-"

"Buffy, I want you to listen to me." He cut her off. _I'm sure it's not magic. Fairly sure. Even if it is, I am sure of the outcome. _My_ outcome. And Xander's outcome. They simply hinge on different things, but the outcome will be the same, because no one else will leave this little band. We few, we terribly mismatched few...God, I need sleep._ "Do you remember the night that you came here with Spike, after you two, erm, announced your relationship?"

"You mean when Xander screamed to the entire Bronze that he knew we were in love? Yeah, I remember that." She chuckled dryly.

"I told you that you'd do great good. Save many, many lives. Together." He rested a hand on her shoulder.

"I wanted to ask you about that. You didn't even freak, and I know it's not because you're crazy about Spike."

"But you recall it?"

"Yeah, I have a big destiny, I do great good. _We_ do great good." She looked towards the apartment's interior, all the people who made up the "we".

"My dream showed me a few things. That was one." _And this is quite the understatement_. "Another item it showed me was your mother. Alive and well, and several years older than she is presently. Several years older at least."

Buffy gaped at him in disbelief. "Really?"

"I swear it." _It's true. And if my version of events is wrong... I'll apologize, explain, and have a nice dose of cyanide. _

"She's okay?"

"No, she's not okay. She has cancer, like you said, but we caught it early. This is terrifying for all of us, and heaven knows- dreams may change." He covered himself slightly, "But I believe, with all my heart, that she will beat this, and that we will help her do it."

"Giles, you _know_ that? How much more do you know?"

"I know you and Spike love each other, and that loving each other, odd as it is, is what you need to do. Never let each other go."

Buffy blinked. "I don't ever want to."

"Then don't. Go home. Be together." He kissed her brow. "Say a little prayer for the ones who aren't together tonight."

"I love you, you get that right?" Buffy blurted, shattering the tender moment.

"Yes, I 'get that'. Now go. I need a hot shower and a hot toddy. And I'll be less likely to end up wearing my drink if all of you clear out."

"See you tomorrow?"

"I promise."

* * *

"Alright." Buffy locked the door behind them, exhausted, fatigued, drained, and all the other synonyms, and still her body managed to feel restless, still her brain was like a machine, jamming and overheating, comforted and worried at the same time. "Where's that pain relief we were promised tonight?" She smirked at him and wound her arms around his neck.

"Coming right up, Luv." He smirked back. "Shower? All hot an' steamy? Makes us both so much more... supple." Somehow the bad boy voice managed to come out of a loving expression. Buffy nodded.

_Pain relief, comfort, like it used to be, only so much more now, _she thought as they undressed each other in the hall, leaving a pool of clothes behind them, stumbling back into the bathroom.

Spike hit the faucet. Buffy grabbed towels, but they couldn't stand to stop touching for more than those two seconds. They clung to each other again, sexually magnetized.

"Make this day go away." She groaned, letting him help her walk in backwards, up over the edge, into the flash flood of heat.

"Distract each other." He breathed.

"Hard?" She lightly licked his bite.

"I don't think hard is the right word," he let his shoulders sag, neck bared under cascading water as he joined her, "let's say _intense_."

It became that way. She wanted her mind to clear, sense only him. In her, on her, hard against her, hard inside her.

He shifted into that warm, pink gully, taking her with a grunt, making her cry out sharply as she climbed him, legs up at his thighs, hands braced back against the wall.

"Oh God. Ohh, oh God." Dim little reminders inside poked her, warned her this wasn't "for" her. It was about _them_. As in _both_. She bit down on the white scar across his throat, the vampiric equivalent of a pleasure epicenter, neatly clamping her teeth and worrying the taut, marble-hued skin. She heard the muffled roar in response, felt sledge hammering happen inside her. "More."

"Hell yes." He pushed her down, off of him, on her back, and then inside again, fire in their eyes for just a second before the eyes closed, consumed.

The cold tile was a shock to her bare back, and she welcomed it. Anything to make her brain focus elsewhere. They never went over the lines from what she'd consider "human play" to "vampire play". Hard, but not- rough. She didn't think you could hurt someone, should hurt someone, if you loved them. _But if it doesn't hurt..._

Spike gasped and felt a rush of clear fluid start coating him, his own. Hard little nails across one nipple, big watchful eyes on his face, and rapid fire breathing that now matched the pulsing of his cock. "The other one feels neglected." He whispered with a sinful flick of his tongue.

Good. Still not hurting, Buffy thought in relief, and her breathing normalized. She watched her thumbs circle the small dark points, raise them, scrape them, and watched him writhe. One thumbnail continued its journey, down the center of his abs, watched them dance when he shuddered.

"God, Baby, when'd you learn to do this for me?" He kissed her deep, not letting her answer.

She fought his tongue for a bit, then when he let her breathe, she whispered, "I keep forgetting things don't hurt you like they hurt me."

He slowed. "Oh no, Pet, nowhere near pain, too good for that..." His eyes were glazed, blissful, loving the new, drenching sensations. "Not hurtin' you am I?" He rubbed his hand over her side, lingering kisses on her neck.

"No! I just thought I'd try to give you what you give me. The distraction."

"I can distract you more." He was slick from his own moisture, far more from hers, she was pouring out her own waterfall. Nudged out of her and down, crown pressing her tighter, less explored opening. Took a second to feel her reaction, watch her stomach tense, and backed off. "No... that's not the right way tonight, but-" he slid back inside her warm pussy while his thumb lightly indented her ring, watched her eyes flutter and her hips twitch. "There it goes." _Overload the senses, way she overloads mine. _

They did. After a few minutes he couldn't take the cramped position anymore and she couldn't take the teasing. He found himself slammed back onto the bathroom floor, the shower curtain half dragged open, a teeming, clawing goddess biting his neck and pounding her pussy down on him, lost to herself, almost lost to him.

"Sweetheart..." _Don't leave me. Leave the troubles, but not me._

"I love you so much." She whispered brokenly, part ecstasy, part pain, pain inside, knowing she was escaping. But not escaping from him, wanted to take him with her. _Always take him with me. _

"Love you too, Buffy."

For the first time in her love life she whispered, "Call me Slayer."

Oh fuck, she was gonna pop him with just a handful of words. "Slayer. Beautiful, beautiful, strong Slayer."

"Strong?"

"Only one in the world like you."

"Well, almost-"

"No." His hand was up, against her face, forcing her eyes to his. "_Only. One_. Like. _You_. I know. I met 'em. Met lots of 'em."

"No one like you. William. Spike. One and only one." She kissed her way from his scarred brow to his now hot jugular, swearing she could feel the pulse in it under her lips, her own pulse maybe.

His face changed, not wanting to, but needing to. The demon had more strength. He was holding on for her, aching, swollen shaft, full, almost tender sack. He shifted restlessly, enjoying that twinge of oversensitivity, knowing he'd beg for more and more, give until she had her fill.

She bit her lip when she saw the vampire instead of the man's face. _But it's still him. _

"Helps hold." He ran his hands over her, so lovingly.

_It's just another part of him, just what he needs sometimes._ _Trying to get what you need, be what you are. So you're - so you're whole._

Whole people. Two faces in one, split auras, half souls, looking for mates. _Half of my whole._ "Love you." She caressed each line and ridge, on purpose now. Falling in love with this part, this harder part, this darker part. Strong bones in the forehead. Blue eyes gone. But not less beautiful when you love the person looking out from behind them. "Tiger eyes."

"Emeralds. Black diamond centers." The thicker voice commented as studied hers, watching them studying him, no revulsion, not mere acceptance. Eyes and hands were lovingly memorizing his other face. Like he was precious, both parts precious. He wondered if demon tears came out clear.

She trailed her fingers from his chest to his lips, then inside them, caressing the fangs.

_Oh, God, it's not fair. I didn't know they could feel pleasure. It's bone, bones shouldn't- oh never mind._ Spike gasped and sucked down on her, erotically tonguing the pads of her fingertips.

Her walls spasmed, and they both groaned, so close and prolonging it, driving to the point of breaking.

Or bleeding. Her fingertip split as she drew it back when she spasmed in pleasure from his tongue.

He swallowed and sucked greedily, catching her hand at the wrist as it jerked in time with her body. But that was an impulse. He swallowed once more and let her loose, licking his lips. "Sorry, Luv."

_He looked so happy then. So desperate and... like he forgot there were rules. Forgot everything. Sometimes it's nice to forget everything for a few minutes._ "You said it doesn't have to hurt."

He froze, mouth opened. "I... No, I think it doesn't have to hurt."

She nodded. "More." Buffy lowered the fingertip back down, still opened, and felt each suck and swipe of his tongue making her pussy ache and burn, like his lips were pulling blood straight from her engorged clitoris instead of a forefinger. Like sucking on it, but from the inside out.

He was high now. Out of control. Almost felt like he was growing inside her, like that blood was pulsing right down to the already overfull main vein."Buffy, we need to-"

"Slayer!" She insisted, head bowing in a sudden spasm.

"Slayer." He heaved himself up, roaring softly and quickly from the sudden stab caused by shifting inside her, her muscles locking and twisting on him. He flung them into a new position, sitting chest to chest, her knees still at his waist.

"Show me it doesn't hurt."

"I can't. You're not thinking right." He denied himself, and her. So much for selfish, he berated himself internally.

"You'd never hurt me."

"I know that."

"Then give me- give me a little love bite." She heard herself say, and waited for some backlash of guilt or warning. None came. "It's okay tonight." It was.

"You don't really want-"

She sank her teeth into his bite mark, eyes closed, shuddering, praying for the final trigger to get pulled, sound the release for both of them.

Fangs slid over her shoulder to the fleshy part between breast and neck, sunk in as though hitting melting butter, without even a flinch from her.

Not a flinch of pain anyway. That sucking motion that had seemed to go from fingertip to nub now pulled at every erogenous zone, a tidal wave of pulse points all crashing together and flooding to his suckling mouth."YES!" She roared herself, body unlocking, walls sluicing down and out, hot wetness soaking them as his cool seed spurted repeatedly in her.

_Hot and cold wet fronts... we're a storm. Thunder and lightening. _

His human face was back now, pained and pleasured, feeling the ache from such a long denied release, but oh such a glorious eruption. He crashed back, head hitting the floor with a dull thud, room reeling. "Slayer, you- good?" He panted harshly in her damp hair as she was splayed over him.

She couldn't answer for a minute. Her body, her mind, and her voice all seemed to have fragmented in her own explosion. Finally she swallowed a few times and her vocal cords seemed to reconnect. "No." She blinked, as if coming out of a dream.

"No?" His voice sounded supremely worried now._ Dammit, thought with my fangs. That's about as bad as the little head. I was thinkin' with both. Hell, I'm a three headed monster now._

"But I'm _better_." She kissed him, letting them unglue, and collapse, soaked, sweating bodies against tiles and towels, spent and lost to the world, but not to each other. "Thank you. For making things better."

"Wish I could do more." He lay a hand on her side, feeling her heave out air, feeling blood pound.

"You have no idea how much you do."

_She has no idea how much she does for me either. No one's ever touched me like that. Ever. _"You gonna let me find out?" He murmured. He had the sudden desire to do something, to say something, to make her know this had to be permanent. Serious and not leaving was well and good, but there should be more for them. There should be something he could say, and instead all he could muster was "You gonna let me find out?"

"Until there's nothing left to find." She smiled tiredly.

* * *

_To be continued..._


	11. Part X

**Unknown **

**By Sweetprincipale**

_This is set in my non-canon, but canon-esque series following Uncontrollable and Unmentionable. If you haven't read those first, please do, or this won't read nearly as well or make much sense. Unknown begins a few weeks after the end of Unmentionable, around the beginning of season five._

_Author's Note: I'm back! Thank you for all the nice reviews! _

_Author's Second Note: Picks up a day or so after the previous chapter, then we jump forward a little bit during the chapter. We're getting glimpses of our folks dealing with daily life in a bad situation. Plot heavy rather than smut heavy, featuring Giles and Joyce, more so than spuffy, but everyone's important here._

_Dedicated to: Alexiarrose, ginar369, omslagspapper, Dlillith21, Sirius120, Rosalea12, MaireAilbhe, Cavementftw, Jackiemack916, Illusera, Jewel74, Touch the Dark, rororogers, Lil-Leti, Edward Culler Brings Sexy Back, MMWillow13, kerry220, The Three March Hares, CailinRua, Twotoe, reenas-as, and Teddybear-514._

_Direct Quotes are obviously not mine, but belong to the fabulously talented and creative people who wrote them. In this case, some of season five's dialogue will be used. _

_**Disclaimer: Nothing of Buffy belongs to me, except my sincere admiration. However, this story is all mine.**_

**Part X**

"Mom, seriously, can't we just do the surgery? It's out and then it's gone."

"Buffy, I want this gone just as much as you do, but cutting into a brain is risky." Joyce straightened her pink hospital gown as she drily stated the obvious.

"But-"

"If it were bigger, and more of an immediate threat, I'd agree with you, Sweetheart. But if we can shrink it without surgery and then make it go away completely, I'd prefer that." Joyce shuddered. "I just watched the example surgery video. Radiation isn't looking too fun-filled either, but a circular surgical saw on my head-" Joyce's shudder became more pronounced.

"Mom, ew! Why'd you watch that?" Buffy winced.

"It's part of being an adult. Making informed decisions." Joyce wearily closed the booklet in front of her. "They need to do something before the radiation treatment can begin, simulation or initiation, something. I need another scan and some more imaging so they target the exact area."

"See, the word 'target' is a word that worries me." Buffy stood and paced by the side of the bed. "Target implies shooting, and shooting implies bad things and-"

"Surgical saws didn't give you the 'bad things' concern?" Joyce gave her only child a wry smile.

"Surgery sounds helpful." She said with an attempt at perkiness that failed and faded into a pout. "Words like target and radiation sound like shooting and mutating people." Buffy insisted. "What did your doctor say?"

"Dr. Kiner says he thinks if I'd waited even a few more weeks, surgery might have been the best option. A few more weeks, or months, the _only_ option." Joyce's smile was pained now. Buffy blanched. "By that time they couldn't wait and let the radiation shrink it before it-"

"Stop. Mom, stop." Buffy took both her hands and held them tight, collapsing on the bed. "You have to be okay." Even with the uncertain comfort of Giles' shared information, Buffy couldn't let go of her desperation. Prophecies could be misinterpreted, dreams could be false. It wasn't even that rationale really, it was the simple fact that it was her _mother _on the line. "Please be okay..."

"Shh, shh, Baby, I will be." Joyce pulled her near, ignoring the stinging pain behind one eye as she sat up.

Buffy watched the almost hidden wince and and knew it was time to do something besides discuss the options. _She's in pain. It's only going to get worse, every second you waste talking is letting it grow. Action time._ "Radiation shrinks it?" She asked for the tenth time that day, more positivity in her tone now.

"Yes, and the chemo treats it, too, in a different way. Little doses of both so the side effects are manageable." _So the radiation doesn't damage too many of the healthy cells. So we wage war on two fronts, as Rupert said. Brave Rupert. _He'd been there for so much of the last few days, and never questioned her musings about treatment, simply offered her steady, concerned support._ The strong silent type, I suppose. Strange how often people mistake that for standoffish. It's stand-behindish._ She smiled suddenly. "Everything will be just fine. I promise."

Buffy nodded, swallowing tears that threatened to overflow. "I know, Mom. I'll let you get set up for the simulation thing then. I know you're going to get better, and if this is the best way to do it, let's do it." She put on her bravest face as she sat up. _Giles promised. Dreams promised, prophecies promised. I hate prophecies. Sometimes they go screwy. But Giles is usually pretty reliable. Be like that little train. With different words. "Nothing will go wrong, nothing will go wrong..."_

* * *

"This is the wrong place?" Glory clutched her head as she stood, swaying on the tiny chunk of rocky island in the Mediterranean. "Can't you do_ anything_ right without the big magical spyglass stuff? What sort of mages and demons and priests are worshipping me?"

"It's not the wrong place, Most Patiently Listening One," bowed the priest under fire, "not as such. This_ is _the Ear of the Ancients."

"So why aren't we flaying some monks and holding my Key by now?" Her narrowed eyes narrowed further. "This doesn't need a human to open up does it?"

"No... it just needs to have the right words."

Glory's mouth opened, shut, and then hissed out, "You don't have the right words?"

"We thought we did. Apparently the Ear only listens to certain sacred tongues. Ancient tongues. It is after all-"

"The Ear of the _Ancients_, I get the joke. Don't joke. _Explain_." Blue sparks began to crackle at the ends of itching fingertips.

"We've tried everything while we waited for your brother to return, but no language we've tried has been successful."

The dethroned immortal squared her shoulders and glared, one well shod foot about to descend with enough force to break part of the island to rubble.

"Ahh ah! Mighty Queen of the Underworld, don't forget-" Jinx rushed up to her, bowing and scraping as he spoke, "the less attention we draw to ourselves..."

"One puny little earthquake. It wasn't like anyone was left alive in that house anyway. Falling into the sea was nice and tidy, no one will ask too many questions." She huffily crossed her arms and stood in a more controlled, still furious stance.

"But the Knights will surely notice a 'puny little earthquake' _here_."

"Fine! Just- find me the right words. If this takes more than a day- someone's tongue is getting ripped out."

* * *

"I'm trying to think of good things about today." Buffy walked hand in hand through the dark cemetery with her lover.

"Sold two paintings. Anya's sortin' your mum's mail an' markin' up calendars with lists of events and auctions where she can buy stock, an' Giles says he's off to an estate sale as soon as he has a moment. So that's good right?"

"Mhm. Hang on. Earth moving." Buffy paused by a recently dug grave.

"Huh. How'd we miss one? Been so careful lately." Spike scratched his hair.

"I don't know, I think - wait, it's just a chipmunk." Buffy put her stake down with a sigh. "I think I'd really like to go beat something up."

Spike's grin flickered to the surface. "Your punching bag awaits." He licked his lips eagerly, doing a boxer's shuffle beside her that was clearly not a true invitation to fight.

"Stoppit." She shoved his arm.

"Ooh, yes, Baby, gimme that right hook." He teased and shoved her back. She shook her head, and in the end, simply collapsed into the hollow under his shoulder, their gaits evening and matching as if they'd walked side by side for years.

"Mom can come home after treatments. That's good. She hates being stuck in the hospital. This way she can be in her own bed every night. But she can't drive herself after appointments. If she reacts badly to the treatments, she might not be able to drive much at all."

"I'll drive her." Spike offered immediately. "Got shiny newly re-fixed up wheels."

"You're the best."

"I know." He smirked proudly, proud of himself, proud she thought so.

"Giles said he'd help, too, but he's going to be running the shop."

"Thought he was training you."

"He is. Between working there, and me going to school. Ughhhh. School. I hate the idea of going back to classes, Spike."

"What'd She-Witch wrangle for you, Luv?"

"Computer Science, sophomore level English, Modern Spirituality, and American History."

"_Modern Spirituality_? What the hell is your major in again?" Spike looked aghast.

"Liberal Arts. You have to take four courses in elective humanities. Besides, that's a class right after lunch on Monday, Wednesday and Friday, which is good, because it won't hit slay time, and Willow says the professor is really laid back."

"Willow took the course?"

Buffy blushed. "No. It's a slacker course, but she looked into it for me. Willow would never take that herself. Will's like a quadruple major, Spike. She's a _genius_."

"You're a genius yourself, Sweetheart." Spike slipped one hand down her back and one into his pocket, pulling out his menthols.

She smiled at his compliment. Spike's praise of her intellect meant a lot. Oh they both thought the other one lacked something in the brain department, she never hesitated to call him an idiot, he called her an air headed valley girl. But beneath the teasing, she knew he was old school smart, not to mention sneaky and clever. He thought she was brilliant on the battlefield, and she was starting to learn he thought she was brilliant, period._ Gotta say, something I don't have a lot of confidence in, and something the exes backed me up on._ She chuckled softly and looked up at him. "That's another good thing about today. I think we might end up at a tie."

"You wanna go home, Pet? Find you some more good things, end the day solidly in the pro column..." He wheedled as his hand slid lower, to her rear, and squeezed.

"Yeah, that sounds like a plan. Let's go home." She turned and he bumped into her. "Where are you-"

"You said home. Your mum's place, I figured." Spike stepped back from where they'd collided chest to chest.

Buffy looked into his eyes, and refused to give him the distance. "I meant... our place." The confidence wavered, and her voice dropped. "Your place."

"No. _Our_ place." He agreed with the first statement. "Just an empty box without you in it, Slayer." His hand caught hers and led her back the way they'd come, deeper into the black night and silent resting places. "Kinda like me. Empty without you."

The places she battled, the places she hated, yet with him walking her right into the center of it all, and every step closer she felt more safe. "Take me home." She nuzzled her burdened shoulders under his, and the load began to lift.

* * *

"Lift your head just a little more Mrs. Summers... there." The technician taped the net mask down, into place.

"I hate this thing." Joyce whispered, the only concession she'd made to any misery or discomfort, the only chink in her brave facade. Who could she say that to?

Only one, of course, the one who convinced her the cracks in her armor were simply proof of strength and battles fought, not dents and weaknesses."Would you like me to have it adjusted? Yes, you there-" he began to chase down the orderly.

"Rupert, no, they have to." Joyce insisted.

"We do have to, Sir. The beams have to hit the right spots, and the guiding imager had to fit down, right here." The technician explained matter of factly, bringing the machine into place. "Are you comfortable, Joyce?"

"I'm fine."

"Can't you get that mask off of her?" Giles wrung his hands, but she couldn't see that, head locked neatly in place.

"No, it has to be there to help position the head. Were you at Mrs. Summers' simulation training yesterday?"

The patient answered the question. "My daughter came yesterday, but she had to go get her course text books today. She wanted to put it off, but she starts class on Monday. She's a sophomore." Joyce said proudly, trying to think of anything but this. "This is my -Rupert- my boyfriend," she stumbled over the word, but the proud look remained, " he and - some other friends-" another hesitation as she recalled Buffy's adamant insistence that Spike would be picking her up at times, and that the rest of her young friends would pitch in as needed, "are going to alternate bringing me to treatments and taking me back to work."

"That's great. But no work today. None for this week, probably. The first week is usually the hardest, okay? You're not gonna feel great, but you're going to be better in the long run."

"That's all that really matters." Joyce felt Giles' hand slide into her own.

"I'll stay right here, Love." He eased himself into a half-squat, smiling at her from the edge of the treatment bed.

"We'll be ready to start in just a minute. You have to wait outside, Sir. Joyce, we're going to be outside, but we're going to be monitoring you and if you need anything, you just yell, and we'll hear you."

"No, I'm fine, I can do this." Joyce squeezed the hand in hers once more, but it refused to leave her grasp.

"Can't I wear some sort of vest and stay with her?" Giles asked, a note of pleading in his voice.

"Not for this level of radiation. I'm sorry."

"Rupert, go. The faster it starts, the faster it's over." She managed to chuckle and pushed his wrist from her hand.

"I'll be right outside the door." He moved to the foot of the bed, wishing he could kiss her. "Damn wires..."

"I'll see you in half an hour."

"Half an hour!" Giles rounded on the technician as he opened the door, waiting for the man to join him. "Have you seen what happens when you even use something as harmless as a _microwave_ on anything composed of soft tissue for thirty minutes?"_ I have, unfortunately. The hazards of misreading frozen food packaging..._

"Easy now. No one wants to hurt soft tissues, or any parts. The radiation itself only last two minutes, Sir, but it takes a few minutes once we get into the control room to adjust the levels and begin, then about twenty minutes for the body to acclimatize and any initial dizziness to subside before she'll be ready to move around."

"And for the radiation to clear." Giles muttered bitterly.

"Rupert." Joyce said one word, but that word was enough.

He refocused his gaze on her, maneuvering, standing on tip toe to look into her eyes behind their mechanical veil. "I'm sorry. I'm protective of those I care about." He bobbed his head quickly to the tech waiting for him. "Hrm. Sorry."

"It's okay. A lot of people get concerned the first time. I've helped with hundreds of treatments. You're not the worst I've had. I'll give you a second, but then we really need to start." He left the room.

Giles coughed to himself once more. "I'll be just outside the door."

"I know. You seem to be around when I need you." She blew him a kiss as best she could, and watched him slip from her side.

In a few minutes she heard the voice coming through the speaker. "Here we go, Joyce. The first step to getting better, you take right now."

She closed her eyes and heard the soft whirring begin.

* * *

"Is she better?" Anya pounced on Spike when he came in through the gallery door late Wednesday afternoon.

"What?" Spike shook his coat off.

"Joyce! She had her second treatment today, is she better yet?" Anya demanded.

"How the hell should I know, I just got up." He fended her off.

"I thought you were picking her up today."

"Old man is, Buffy's at one of her classes, so I came to help out here."

"Tara's supposed to be here." Anya frowned.

"Thought she had class."

"You said Buffy had class."

"It's an effin' big campus, they both have class for all I know." He began to worry.

"Don't snap at me."

"I'm not!"

The door chimed. "Customer." Anya's eyes lit up. She cast a pleading, pointed look at Spike.

"I am not wearin' the soddin' beret." He swaggered away and gazed at the new customer browsing about. "College student." He murmured as Anya swept past him, giving him a small reproachful glare.

"Looking for something for your dorm room?" Anya accosted him, taking him by the elbow and leading him to Spike.

"Uh- not exact-"

"You want the birds to think you're sophisticated, deep, I get it." Spike sized him up, with the little goatee and the Beethoven tee shirt. "You decided every other jock looking for a quick pull could stick up a Klimt or a Van Gogh. You need a print that has- artistic integrity."

"And won't break your budget, 'cause you need quarters for laundry." Anya steered him to the print racks.

"I - um- sure. Yeah." He sheepishly, and confusedly, admitted.

"Get him one of those Esher prints, Anya."

She pulled two from the stacks and held them up for his approval."Will that be cash or charge?"

The young man quailed under the forceful but accurate salesmanship. He reached for his wallet.

Soon he shuffled out the door and Anya and Spike waved him on his way, Anya crying out, "Come again! Tell your friends! Especially friends with lots of money for bigger purchases!"

At waist level, she gave Spike a high five. "I love this."

"I can tell."

"Speaking of tell- is Joyce better yet?"

"God, where's Buffy?" Spike moaned and stalked away.

* * *

"Buffy? I'm home!"

"Hi Mom! Hi Giles!" Buffy dropped her books with a thud and scampered to the front door.

"Hi Sweetie." Joyce unwillingly allowed Giles to help her to a seat.

Buffy and Giles exchanged a brief glance over her head. Her mom was rivaling Spike for paleness and even keeping her eyes open seemed to exhaust her. "Rough?" Buffy murmured, sinking onto the couch beside her.

"I didn't pass out this time."

"That's good."

"She tries to get up too quickly." Giles chided gently, then playfully glared at his young student, "Not unlike you."

"Hey, if you don't get up fast, you're vamp chow." Buffy got a puzzled frown on her face. "Um. Speaking of vamps- though not the kind who chow, at least not on people-" Joyce opened one eye and Buffy hurried on, "I thought Spike was picking you up today?"

"It was daytime." Joyce pointed out.

"That's okay, he has ways to get around."

"I thought he was helping Anya at the gallery." Giles protested.

"No, Tara is at the gallery."

"She can't be, she told me no Wednesdays or Monday nights because of class and some wicca club." Joyce whispered, voice getting more faint as fatigue warred with pain and queasiness.

"Anya's at the shop, I know that." Giles muttered to himself.

"Spike must be too."

"It's so sweet the way everyone is pitching in." Joyce smiled.

"Mega sweet. Confusing though. Or maybe that's just me." Buffy rose."I'll go get you some tea. I wonder where Will and Xander are."

* * *

"I think you got your dates mixed up." Xander insisted.

"Maybe." Willow finally conceded as they walked away from the nurses' station in the radiology wing. "But -if Tara and Buffy were at class, Giles and Anya were at the gallery, it was daylight, and Spike couldn't pick her up- I know_ I'm_ supposed to!"

Xander reached over and took the little date book covered in cavorting puppies from Willow's hand. "How the hell do you read all this?" He boggled at the tiny squares covered in frantic scribbles in many different colored pens.

"It's called academic organization."

"I prefer the nine to five or eight to four brand of organization myself." He muttered, still peering at the pages. "This is organized?"

She nodded and pointed. "See, I have all my classes, wicca group, Tara's birthday's coming up, so there's a reminder, Joyce's appointments, art auctions, estate sales, research meetings, the library's extended lab hours, Scooby meetings-"

"Next Wednesday." Xander flipped the book shut and handed it back to her.

"What?" She looked puzzled and reopened it.

"Next Wednesday. You pick her up _next_ Wednesday, because Giles is at the art auction, Tara and Buffy have class, Spike helps Anya at the gallery, so you pick up Joyce- NEXT Wednesday."

"Ohhh. Ohh, you're right. Shoot." Willow frowned. "Sorry, Xan."

He sighed. "It's okay. But Will?"

"Yeah?"

"I don't mind giving you a lift and taking off an hour early from work once in awhile, but next time borrow Tara's car. And get a book with some bigger blocks!"

* * *

"Ahh!" A short, agonized cry rent the air of the still Summers' dwelling.

Giles dropped his book with a thud and practically tripped over his own feet in his haste to get to the stairs. "Joyce!"

"Rupert,_ do not _come up here!"

"What's the matter?" He halted in mid stride.

"Go home!"

"What? Don't be- preposterous." He sputtered and began mounting the steps.

"Don't call me - oh!" The sound was pained and short.

"Joyce, I'm coming up-"

She cut him off."You can't."

He could see the shadow in the hall, tell she'd stepped from her bedroom. He'd thought she was napping, what on earth could've gone so horribly wrong? She was finally beginning to cope with the tiredness, he'd thought. She'd had five treatments so far, one every other day, skipping the weekends. Her first blood work, post- treatment, was taken yesterday. _She can't have gotten her results back. I would've heard the phone. Unless I dozed off. I might've, I suppose, I've dozed off quite a bit lately, running ragged, training, running the shop, ordering shipments, off to the hospital, back here, pop in to sleep and shower at the flat... _

"Well, why can't I? What's wrong?" He said with a frustrated edge in his tone.

Joyce looked at her hand. It had seemed so simple, the normal thing you do when you wake up. Roll over, stretch, run your fingers over your tangled hair, push it out of your eyes, especially if you had an ever present, nagging headache. The hair wasn't supposed to come out. At least, not normally. "I'm not feeling very well."

"Should I phone Dr. Kiner?" The British voice was concerned.

"No..." She stared, strands of hair curled in limp fingers. She was getting older. She was getting little crow's feet, frown lines, laugh lines, just lines. Her husband left her for someone younger, firmer, more fresh faced. In fact, _several _someones. But she'd still had that gorgeous hair, a beautifully kept head of hair, her one small outward vanity.

_Cancer's a selfish little bitch._

"Is it your stomach?"

His voice startled her, made her blink at her outstretched hands."Hm?"

"Your stomach. Is it bothering you?"

"No, not really." She shook herself. "I'm fine, Rupert. Is Buffy home yet?"

"She wanted to do a quick sweep after her afternoon class and dinner with Willow and Tara, but she'll be back soon. I don't have to leave, you know." He kept his voice light and cheerful despite the worry he felt. "I could spend the night." _Clarification, man, for heaven's sake! _"I could make up a bed on the couch again."

_I can't believe him. Are all men this oblivious? Although sweet._ "I will be perfectly fine by myself."

"I don't doubt it." He lied politely. "Well. Hrm. I can't kiss my ladylove goodnight?"

_That does it. Damn him._ "My hair is falling out." She dropped the sentence heavily, the slap in the face it was.

He refrained from rolling his eyes. They'd mentioned this. He popped his lens from his frames at the mention of wigs- or using them as props in certain situations. "They did say that could happen. Often happens, especially in the case of radiation on the- on the area where your hair is." He polished his glasses and set a foot softly on the bottom step, still not invited, but about to stop giving a damn.

_Calm. He always was calm. So soothing when the high school is under attack, so irritating now. _"When men are bald society says it means they're virile or something along those lines. When women are bald it means they're making a fashion statement or they're not well, and I happen to think I look- _Rupert_!" His face appeared at the landing, making her retreat back into the half open door of her room with a gasp.

"The pamphlets said disorientation and irrational thinking and behavior may also manifest during treatment." He said smoothly, stepping into the hall slowly. " I'm afraid you're displaying all of those symptoms, if you think I give a toss about your hair."

Her mouth popped open angrily, in direct opposition to her eyes which narrowed dangerously. "How dare you-"

"Shut. Up." He snapped off, approaching her. Then added more gently, "Please."

She was silent, but only because she wasn't sure whether to shout in rage or afraid if she spoke her voice would betray her with a weak wobble.

"May I?" He came close to her, standing in light spill of her room. She nodded stiffly.

_Finally, we're in one of our bedrooms together. Not how I'd imagined it. Of course Nan would never show me the juicy scenes, now would she? She was quite strict about that in her day, the pride of the pure and all that..._He passed her with a courtly inclination of his head and went to her closet.

Joyce followed him, frown deepening. "What are you doing?"

_I'm looking for the scarf that I love. You don't know that I love it, but I do. I see you wear it sometimes in my little pieces of memory, memories I haven't even made with you yet, but I know you wear it for me. Ah ha_. He found it on the top shelf under a pile of other scraps of silk and wool, a dark gold and amber hued pattern on a cream background. "This brings out your eyes. It highlights your skin. And it'll catch the light, like your hair does." He held it out to her, speaking in a soft voice, watching her inside his mind, seeing her wearing it, seeing it do exactly as he described.

She took it from his hand and the spell was broken. He'd just barged into an ill woman's bedroom, mostly against her wishes, raided her wardrobe, and made a stab at poetic prose. _What is it Buffy says? "It sucks to be me?" Yes, that's rather apt..._

"You're a very handsome man." Joyce whispered, feeling the silk against her hand.

"You're a very gorgeous woman." He blurted, taken aback.

"Thank you. I know that it's petty and vain, but right now," she swallowed, "I just can't deal with being middle aged, _and_ sick, _and_ ugly. Maybe two out of three, but not-"

"Do you think beauty matters so much?" He cocked his head.

"I'm an art dealer. I live with beautiful things, it's my work." She struggled to say without too much bitterness.

"Then you know that all art is different, and there are many versions of beauty." He stepped closer, ghosting his hand over her head, seeing a number of thin spots. Seeing her shy away ever so slightly. A proud woman should not move like that. "It's in the eye of the artist- and the beholder." The voice continued soft, like the scarf, wrapping around her mind.

"When the last 'beholder' decided he wanted new pieces..." She shook her head. "Then when you start dating a wonderful man, a man a little younger than you, a man like-"

"Me?" Giles shook his head. "How many do you think give me a second glance? The old man in the suit in his tower of books?" He shook his head.

"I gave you several. You _are _a very handsome man. And I'm falling apart." She moved aside and showed him, golden brown strands across her pillow, in her hands, on her shoulders, falling out.

"I see."

His hands and brain disagreed loudly about what they did next, but his fingers continued to his collar. Slow, deliberate twists and jerks, he undid button after button as Joyce's face went from puzzled to concerned to something bordering on horror.

"This is not the time- or way- to prove you think I'm attractive!" She gasped out, hand over her rapidly beating heart.

"No." His jaw popped, and veins stood out slightly as he kept it locked. "It's a way to show you I - love you."

The words were out now. No taking them back. Nor could he take back what he was showing her. The shirt opened and dropped off his shoulders as he turned.

The horrified look on her face deepened, for a different reason now. One body should not contain so many scars. Her hand reached out, then stopped and fell back to her side, the clutched hair drifting away, no longer of any importance. The amount, the variety... Her stomach lurched in a way that had nothing to do with side effects and everything to do with hating whatever, whoever did this to him.

"Am I still handsome?" He finally whispered.

_God, I'm so stupid._ "How?" She choked out.

"Vampire." He kept names out of it.

"Angel?"

He didn't want to get sidetracked from the point. "Angelus." He cleared his throat and begun to rebutton the shirt. "Fortunately, Spike and Buffy intervened."

"Spike?"

"And Buffy."

She knew then exactly the when and what. She remembered she'd inadvertently thrown up roadblocks that night as well. _Stupid, stupid, stupid. I have to learn to trust her. Spike, too. _"I'll thank them when I see them." Joyce whispered and stopped the hands as they worked up the shirt. "I didn't answer your question."

"I know." He hadn't expected it to backfire so utterly and completely. _A set of bloody directions and a timeline should be required for all romantic relationships._

"You are incredibly handsome. Brave. Strong. Smart. Kind." Her fingers undid the work he'd just completed.

_Oh dear Lord. Dear Lord, really? Now?_ Her hands made contact with skin. "We- um- my intention was not to- that is, I was trying to show that the person, not the appearance, is what we love." He stuttered, suaveness fleeing.

"Then this is not me, showing that I find you handsome." She licked her dry lips.

"This is...?" He hardly dared hope.

"Showing that I love you." She echoed his words, and dropped her bathrobe, revealing a simple pink sheath night gown under it, far from sexy, but that wasn't really the point, was it?

"But you're tired." He protested. At least, _verbally_ protested.

"So I'll lay down." She picked up the scarf from the edge of the bed and tied it on loosely. "Just to try to keep me from shedding." She winked and managed to joke, thoroughly reminded about what_ love_ looks like.

_Ah. So that's why I just adore that scarf._ Giles sank down on the bed beside her, a sudden knowing smile on his face, shirt half open, leaning to kiss her lips. "Slowly." He reassured.

"Just love me." She invited, unable to be reassured, too busy being nervous, but certain at once.

"I will. You'll see. You've no idea how much."

_To be continued..._


	12. Part XI

**Unknown **

**By Sweetprincipale**

_This is set in my non-canon, but canon-esque series following Uncontrollable and Unmentionable. If you haven't read those first, please do, or this won't read nearly as well or make much sense. Unknown begins a few weeks after the end of Unmentionable, around the beginning of season five._

_Author's Note: You may want to go back and read the Dreamscape chapters from Unmentionable ( up to you though), because there are lots of vague references to what everyone saw. It begins in Part XXIV and ends in Part XXVI_

_Author's Second Note: Okay folks, picking up the pace a little here, busy chapter with a little bit of everything, all the subplots, lots of movement from place to place. Consider it a Buffy Buffet, and there's a little smut someplace. _

_Author's Third Note: Picks up a few days after the previous chapter. I played with the canon's timeline. Just go with it, pretty please._

_Dedicated to: Alexiarrose, ginar369, omslagspapper, Dlillith21, Sirius120, Cavementftw, Jackiemack916, Illusera, Jewel74, Touch the Dark, rororogers, Lil-Leti, MMWillow13, kerry220, The Three March Hares, Mike13z50, and Teddybear-514._

_Direct Quotes are obviously not mine, but belong to the fabulously talented and creative people who wrote them. In this case, some of season five's dialogue will be used. _

_**Disclaimer: Nothing of Buffy belongs to me, except my sincere admiration. However, this story is all mine.**_

**Part XI**

"We've been here for days." Glory idly fiddled with a handful of pinkish triangular things. Nods greeted her bored, frustrated sounding comment. "We've tried every language, ancient or otherwise you can think of." She crooked a long, blood red fingernail at her chief priest. "And frankly, there aren't too many of you left to do the talking." Her company quails before her glance, mouths tightly shut. "Oh, grow up you little wusses. They'll grow back! I could put them back now, but_ somebody_ says I have to conserve my strength," she pointed accusingly at Jinx, "because somebody _else_," she yanked the priest closer by his stole, "brought us to an island with no other living HUMANS on it, and no BRAINS for me to feed on."

"Mistress, if I could be allowed to-"

"What, _speak_? Doesn't my little pile of tongues here tell you how_ sick _I am of hearing your voice? Your voice that's tried every language from a billion times and dimensions and _still_ hasn't gotten me any monks to fry?" Her insanity and instability was growing, so much so that even her most loyal subjects, who welcomed her violence upon them as some proof of their devotion, were beginning to worry.

So no one said anything.

Silence seemed to give her an idea.

"What language do you need?" She demanded, a sudden, crafty look in her eyes. No one dared to answer. She heaved an exasperated groan, "Tell me already!"

"The language of the ancients. We've tried all the most ancient tongues, human and other wise, mainly human, since we're in the human plane."

She shook her head impatiently, wondering why she hadn't thought of it before. Probably too weak and too faded to think properly, what with her bratty brother borrowing her body all the time, with her borrowed time ending in just a few short months, with nothing to feed on in days...

"Ancients. How ancient?"

"We can't say, Most Glorious One, before time created the planes of existence since-" The demon stopped his grave yet halting speech as the look of smug certainty etched itself on her pretty but cruel features.

"You're fools, and I'm a bigger fool-" frantic head shaking and mute decrying of her self-blasphemy interrupted her, "oh, no, I am. You can't find the right words. There _are_ no words. There is no language of the Ancients." Her eyes were glowing, black and red. "We were before time, we were before speech. We have no names! We have no words!"

"Stop her, she'll alert the entire Order of the Knights!" One demon hissed to Jinx and the priests, but to no avail.

"The survivors from my dimension only named me to call me forth, but when I really _existed_- I didn't need words, didn't need names- I thought it..." she turned to the perfectly curved rock formation where the sky, sea, and land all seemed to join, the perfect "Ear" for all the realms, the heavenly, the earthly, and what lay below, "and it was."

Her power came from her mind, her sustenance was thought, it made sense that the other "ancients" would respond to that power.

She reached back for memories, far, far, far away, almost forgotten, torn apart by countless eons in some cosmic oblivion, many cosmic oblivions in fact. No words, only images of what she wanted, somehow formed into communication, the way deities merely think of the worlds they want to build, the punishments they want to inflict, and it is simply so.

She was lost in some sort of primordial recreation, some trance, as energy streamed out of her.

"Oh no..." Jinx clutched his long dirty hair and rocked. "She's going to over do it this time..."

Glorificus was unaware of that, of how her fading "mortal" battery was rapidly discharging. Her mind telegraphed,_ The monks, show them to me._

Nothing came back. A void. Three shadows in nothingness.

Her anger was hot, harsh, consuming. _Show me! Show me where they were then!_

Flashes of places, places she'd searched, never seen, and it ended abruptly in something dark that glowed. Hidden, white and black gaping gashes in hidden mountains where mountains shouldn't exist.

_The Cave. _

It was the last coherent thought she had before she blew some inner fuse. With a screech of "The Cave!", she went down, lights flickering across her skin, insensible.

There was a gasp. She didn't change into Ben at once, it was like the flesh was slowly rippling, one broken image in a pond replacing with another.

"Goddess! Glorificus!" Jinx dared to touch her and call her by name.

"We have to get her to mainland and let her feed." One of the mages still possessing his tongue said urgently.

Jinx scooped up the unconscious boy at the shoulders and motioned for another to take his feet. "Well, where on the mainland?"

"The Cave. It has to be the Cave of Souls, which is in remotest Africa, from our last scrying."

"She won't _make_ it to Africa."

"Well, she won't last here, there's no one for her to feed on, and there's every chance the Knights saw her tap into the ancient powers."

"Then we have to move. Stop arguing, put the boy in the boat, and let's be gone before they begin to search for us, and hope they remember their sacred quarrel is with the _keepers_ of the Key, not the seeker of it. Cloak this place."

* * *

"He's moving some stuff into our place." Buffy said uncomfortably. "We need a lamp."

"I'm gonna blow a circuit, Luv." Spike gestured to the telly, microwave, mini fridge. "Not built for electricity, most stiffs don't need it." He pointed out with a half-smirk.

"Spike, I'm gonna go blind." Buffy shut her text book with a sigh. "And you totally didn't hear me. I said, 'he's moving stuff into our place'."

"I heard you, then you changed the subject." He put down three candles in front of her as she sat in the armchair beside his. "What'd you mean?"

"He fixed up a bed in the spare room, put some clothes in the closet, and there's guy stuff in the bathroom."

"Guy stuff?"

"A comb, a toothbrush, and his extra glasses' case."

"Shocking."

"Spike!"

"Luv, what'd you expect?"

"I don't know... it's good, it's not like I'm being a brat and I don't want my mom to date. It's a little weird, that's all."

"Your Mum's made it through two weeks of radiation, she's got no energy, she's makin' _me_ look like I've got a healthy robust color in my cheeks, an' her hair's comin' out. He wants to be around to take care of her, an' he's not pushin' the envelope by puttin' his kit in her room. I think he's doin' a decent thing."

Buffy took a moment to absorb his words, then looked up at him, bemused. "You know what's funny? I think you would've said that without the soul, too."

"Course I would've, I know true love when I see it. Even if it's incredibly inconvenient to see- an' takes up all the shelf space in the loo."

"Hey, you built that for me."

"I know, but I'd think you could leave a man six inches for a bottle of peroxide, a razor, and toothbrush."

"You don't shave."

"Do! Mrmm need to mhm when hmm." He mumbled something as he abruptly turned away.

"What?" She cocked her head to catch his words.

"I didn't need to shave all that much when I was turned. Same deal now." He rummaged through the little cabinet they'd put alongside the microwave. "Pretzels?"

"Gummi bears, please."

"Thank God you've got Slayer healin' or you'd die from a sugar- gah! Slayer!" He spasmed as he turned and found her a few inches behind him. His nostrils flared briefly. "You promised not to do that."

"You promised not to rip any more of my underwear, but..." She took the bag of candy from his hand, and promptly replaced it on the shelf, leaning her chin in the middle of his pecs, looking up at him with an almost sleepy grin. "So... didn't have to shave too much, huh?" She admired the alabaster perfection of his chin. "Late bloomer?"

He looked dangerously displeased for a split second before he shrugged and wound his arms around her waist."What can I say? My true love was waitin' for me a century or so in the future. I'm right on time. I think I've 'bloomed' enough now." his fingers found the neckline of her shirt and tugged it gently down, showing a small red welt, all the evidence left of a short, nonlethal bite, in the midst of a dozen other fading remains of hard kisses. "Wouldn't you say?"

Buffy blushed. "I like you smooth." Her hands found their way to his belt, letting her fingers unclasp it, then tug the shirt free so the taut abdominal perfection was hers to touch.

"Think you'd like me all stubbly, too." He winked.

"Oooh, a five o'clock shadow would look so yummy on you. Sort of Goth-Cowboy- Bad Boy."

"Miracle of miracles, the girl admits she likes a bad boy." He looked pleased and winked.

"Miracle of miracles- I admit I _love you_. Good or bad. Long as you're mine."

_This is why nothing gets done around here. She melts me and enslaves me, all the crucial parts, head and heart and... _His unmentioned organ throbbed._ Right then._ He lifted her up with a grunt, her knees knocking over the already precariously placed cabinet. "Crap."

"Let's put it on the floor... I mean right side up on the floor, on purpose." She giggled as his hands cupped her rear.

"I'm gonna hang a shelf and have done with it. We've knocked it over more than it's been up since we got the damn thing." _Ah domestic bliss..._

"Good plan. Later though." They toppled into his chair, straddling his lap, his hands already up and fiddling with her bra catch.

"You told me you had your first quiz tomorrow."

"I do."

"I'm s'posed to help you study." He reminded her. _Damn being a "good boyfriend". She just said she liked you in the bad boy look, pick her up, shag her senseless, and bring the book downstairs. Learn by osmosis._

"So help me. Talk to me the basis of spirituality in western man?" She suggested flippantly.

"I had thought about helpin' you study in some other way." He rolled his eyes, paused, and gave her a thoroughly wicked grin. "But I know a way to make you see heaven, although I'm pretty sure it's eastern. Gimme your ankles..."

She giggled and fended him off."No! We tried that on this floor, remember? Only on a bed or I get a stiff neck." Her shirt flew off over the back of the chair, bra behind it, followed by one of her sneakers. "Geez, it's cold in here already."

"I see that." His mouth roved over each hard nipple and pulled her close, hands massaging her bare back. "Come winter, it'll be quite cool downstairs. Least for you."

"We'll spend more time at Mom's house." They smiled cautiously, pausing. _Wow. _Mom's _house. This, this little stone box is mine, is ours. Still a new feeling. Especially since she still doesn't know about everything. Exactly_.

"Hm. Her blood work came back. Tumor markers are lower. Not low enough, but..."

"I'm takin' her for her scan on Tuesday afternoon, get a better picture. Wicca chicks and Demon Gal are mindin' the fort. Rupe's headin' to some estate sale about an hour east he said."

"God I hope that little bugger shrinks so far down they need a - an MRI microscope to see it!" She frowned, "Do they have those?"

"Prolly, Luv, I don't know."

The atmosphere had cooled, playfulness gone, heatedness gone, love remained. That's what he'd been getting at earlier, before they got all sorts of sidetracked. "Don't give Rupert a hard time. He loves her. An' he's been more than decent to us."

"I know. I mean, I'm happy. And he really does _love_ her. I heard him say it on the phone yesterday. He can barely do it, but he says it. Mom just... glows."

"Good for them, right, Luv?"

"Right." She smiled at this guy, this amazing new guy, who somehow felt so old to her, like they'd been together forever. _Maybe it's 'cause we're friends. Maybe it's 'cause we have that balanced aura, element, power thingy, or because he's literally got the key to my heart or the mate to my soul, whatever... _"She's so tired when she comes home. She sleeps and then when we talk it's about the treatment and dinner, and the schedule and the gallery-"

"You an' me doesn't come up." He nodded.

"Not a lot. She knows, but I don't think she knows how- how big it is." She looked in his eyes. Her mom knew Spike was a constant now. That she needed him. That if she wasn't around, she was either at school, or in his company. Her mother didn't know it was _love_, the true stuff, the unending kind. It was like she didn't _want _to know that, and Buffy couldn't bring herself to shove the truth in her face, it was too precious to blurt out or fling over her shoulder in passing. "I try to bring it up and she sidesteps me. Like if I don't tell her exactly what's going on, it isn't true."

"Well, she's not after me with sharp objects, and she sees I'm close to you as your effin' shadow whenever we're together, so I'd say we're alright for now, Luv." His hands went up her back, tangled in her hair. "No rush."

"There is." Buffy bowed her forehead to his and swiveled her hips on his jutting denim crotch. "Things are changing. I wanna be closer to her, but closer to you is important, too."

"We're close." He ground up against her. "So close."

"This thing with Giles is good. Mom shouldn't just have me in her life."

"I think gettin' sick proved she's got a flamin' _bunch_ of kids . Your mum is everyone's mum, an' they all take care of her."

She nodded, and then cupped the sharp jawline. "Nothing replaces having the other half of yourself though. A partner."

He liked that word. Boyfriend and girlfriend, such trite little terms, 'specially if you'd been dealing in terms of immortal lovers, maker and creation, belonging to. "Is that what we are, Slayer? Partners?"

"You know it."

* * *

It had permanence, Buffy marveled as they moved again, still interlocked, legs around his waist.

_I like the title. Ambiguous maybe, but connected. United._ His heavily shod foot kicked the stone slab away and he jumped neatly down, ignoring the ladder, holding her close as the air rushed past them.

"Spike..."

"Together forever, you an' me."

She nodded, warmth clogging her throat. "With souls, yeah, we will be." She murmured as they collapsed on the bed, her underneath for now, hungry hands pulling clothing free. _Go to the same place, right? At least parts of us?_

_Unless they can take it back. Unless keeping the secret keeps it inside him. _

"Even now is good." She nodded, to chase the fears away.

"Hey." His head stopped its nipping southward trek, and pulled up to glare at her. "I can't leave you unless I ask and you tell me I can go, isn't that the deal?"

Buffy nodded, powerful eyes locked with their equals. "Some things don't give you the chance to make the decisions." She reminded him gently, stroking through the hair that was still palest yellow, but wasn't slicked back, instead curling slightly in an unruly mass from their tussling. "But as long as it isn't one of us choosing to leave, I guess..."

"No, not even that, Slayer. 'Cause I still have to ask. No matter who's throwin' the 'decisions' around, I still promised I'd ask to leave. An' no one'll make me say those words. I can be damn stubborn can't I, Baby?" His hips nudged hers, and she felt the dull throbbing inside her increase.

"To the point of total pigheadedness." Buffy agreed.

"Tell me it's a good thing." He winked.

"Like the rest of you," she laughed, "you can make anything bad into something good."

"Yeah. All about who you're doin' it _for_."

_He'd do anything for me. For love. So that means for me. I'd do anything for him too. To keep him, to always be loved, never left. Have something that I can finally feel... _His hands were harder and more desperate, they raked her clothes down and off with his own. His hands were soft, prying her lips open with his thumb to melt their mouths together, pressing her thighs apart to work his magic inside her.

Months of emptiness and empty touches dropped away. _Can't lose this. Slayers turn hard and cold and alone. Maybe because no one could ever make them feel anything but pain. Too much pain makes you want to stop feeling altogether. _

It's a bloody perfect partnership, he thought in awe as his soft little rabbit turned to the hunting hawk in the space of one breath. Two seconds ago she'd been convulsively clinging, mewling in his ear as they started their familiar dance, fingers feeling her out, watching her drift away on a cloud of happy sensations inside her heart and her pretty pink valley.

Then...

"Need to show you. Feel you. Give it back." She was on top, wildcat claws hidden under such soft fingertips, kneading him, working her way down each notch of his spine and cord of his arms until he was overwhelmed, lying back in a half spread eagle, fiery golden head bobbing away on him.

"What are you tryin' to give?" He finally managed to form a coherent thought, right before she crawled back up him, between her fervent kisses.

She thought, but sexual desire tended to short circuit her words while opening her mind at the same time. _Kind of like that trans-something meditation. Ooh, good topic for a paper- except I can't write about sex and then let my professor read it. nOt until they make an anti-embarrassment pill._ "Everything. Anything. Sounds silly, but it was driving me crazy not getting to feel real love stuff, or even real touching, touching that makes an impact... I mean, sounds silly to you, you had it for a hundred years and I had it once but..."

"Silly's right, but not about that. I get what you mean. Don't you think havin' it for a hundred years gives you _more_ of a taste for it, more to miss, more to crave?"

"Yes. But only once and then thinking never- that sucks, too."

"Call it equal pay then, Pet. Plenty for both to give. True 'partnership'." He smirked, and hesitated, torn between wanting to watch her ride or wanting to pound into her, look down on that sweet face he'd come to love so well. She solved it for him, and he felt another little jolt of pleasure that he had found someone so brilliantly resourceful, and intuitive, and pretty damn hot really.

She scissored her leg under his and he took the other one up over his top hip fluidly, as if they'd planned this and discussed it before hand. She pulled his shoulders, he took her hips, wedged himself in good, aiming up and in deep.

Perfection. Not on topping the other, but chest to chest, even. Face to face, not a whole lot of moving, but there didn't need to be. Every inch of him was in her, and fairly well strangled. "God bless the Slayer package." He cried softly, eyes closing.

He was cool, so how come he burned into her sometimes? Her core took him in with a slick grasping plunge and she instantly spasmed. "God bless _your_ package." He laughed and bumped up, hitting the unyielding back reaches of her softest spot. "Take it easy." She murmured as he pressed her down, snugging every inch of them together, and a hard jolt sluiced through her pelvis.

Pause.

"Pardon?" He asked, dark brows rising. "That's new." He squeezed her rump with one skillful hand. "You usually only say that if I go too fast during-"

"You're right. We should do that later." A naughty little smile played on her lips, and she let the hand wander lower, between her cheeks, teasing, intensifying. Proving, reminding her there's no act that's not meant for two people in love .

"Tonight?" _Love her, love her, love her. She gives so much to me, and she worries about "payin' me back". Like a man needs more than whatever she willingly offers. Stupid ex-pricks, ungrateful bastards. _He rested his forehead to hers and let his seeking hand massage gently, silent gratitude to just be holding her.

"Sure, tonight. If we have time for a long soapy shower after." _The best part of afterglow has to be the part where it turns into the second round. Or the fifth. Whatever._

"We have all the time you want. It's our place, you never have to leave." He reminded her.

_And here I go with the mood killer._ "I don't want Mom to worry if she realizes I'm not home." But they hadn't been going back to her place much, not together, not overnight, since her mother's hours were all screwed up, sleeping a lot after treatment, sometimes getting a second wind later in the night, sometimes not.

He didn't seem to mind. This was their life together, taking on battles, whether they were comprised of huge hulking monsters or tiny cells, anything deadly and dangerous he loved to join the fight. "Rupes staying there some nights might be good for you then, give you less worry, yeah , Luv?"

"Yeah. But she'll still worry. Unless she knows where I am."

_So tell her. Tell her you don't just have a new lover, you've got a new home to share. That you an' me- we're partners, in every sense of the word._

He didn't say that. He knew she would. Knew she'd tried, and she'd let her mum know he was in the picture- just not how clearly he was in it, or how deep, in it up to his everlastin' neck.

"Stop thinkin' on that, Buffy. Time to study. You want spirituality?" Clamped together, they moved as one, legs wrapped smoothly over and under, some braid of flesh with a literal love knot.

"Yes?"

"Been talkin' to Tara at the shop, when Anya let's us take two seconds off." They shared a knowing grin. "She knows about elements, balance, all that rubbish."

"And?"

"Not rubbish after all. Come here, sunshine, an' let me put soothe the burn." His voice took on a rougher edge as the words tumbled across her ear, lips tracing spiderwebs of promises on her throat.

_We are a storm, lightening scorches, thunder crashes, rain falls. He does soothe the burn. Washes it away..._ "Then let me light you up." He smiled at her, grateful to receive her warmth, it wasn't a burn to him. Perfectly soothing, giving and taking and building and scaling all at once.

_Ah ha._ Balance. "Ohhhh. I get it. _Spiritual_." _Duh. Pretty much all sex with Spike is a mind-altering experience._

"Damn straight."

* * *

"Let me get this straight. Giles is shacking up with Joyce?" Xander wiped ketchup from the corner of his mouth as they grabbed lunch up the street from the gallery.

"Not 'shacking up'! He's just there so much it makes sense to have some things in the spare room."

"I can buy that. He _is_ a stud." Willow muttered absently into her milkshake.

"Willow!" Buffy and Xander glared, and jerked their heads discreetly (as if) to Tara.

"It's okay." Tara giggled into her own meal.

"Yeah. I'm not into studs anymore. I like me some goddess." Willow's foot caressed Tara's calf under the table. "Or at least some almighty powerful spirit world megaphone." Tara shifted uneasily, as did Buffy, for different reasons.

"Hm. I j-just read auras. There's nothing special a-about me." The honeyed blonde protested.

"Hey. Do not put down the Tara-ster." Xander jabbed a finger towards the humble girl.

"You sound like you're saying toaster with a mouthful of french fries." Buffy noted that was actually a possibility. "Wait, were you?"

"No." He glared, and smacked her fingers out of his plate, away from his pickle. "Get your own weekend big burger special."

"I think it sounded like he said terrorist." Willow hissed.

Xander sighed impatiently and turned a playful smile back to the newest member of their little tribe. "My point being, of course you're special. Very special. She's the birthday girl pretty soon, right Wills?"

Tara's uncomfortable shifting turned into a complete jerk, sending her fork to the floor of the diner.

"Sorry. Did I hit a nerve? You're secretly eighty but have wicked good magical concealer?" Xander snapped his fingers in mock realization. It fell flat.

"I- don't like birthdays much. I m-mean, celebrating other people's birthdays, but n-not mine." Tara drained her soda. "It's Anya's day off, and I don't want to keep you two from apartment hunting-"

"Are you kidding? She practically threw all of us out the door for your 'lunch hour', so she can hog Mom and the cash register." Buffy watched Tara scooting away from the little red and chrome table.

"B-but she's there all the other days of the week, and Joyce wanted help cataloging."

"Giles was a curator at the British Museum. And he was a librarian. He kicks cataloging ass." Willow pointed out, also rising, trouble in her eyes as her girlfriend was practically fleeing from them.

"I know, b-but he's tired. He's been looking tired, don't you think he's looking tired? Probably not sleeping much since he and Joyce- oh!" She clapped a hand to her mouth. "Not like that. Not like they've been-" She grabbed her canvas jacket tightly over her chest, and faltered out, "Bye!" as she rushed from the restaurant.

The trio stared. "Bad, bad, _bad_ mental places." Buffy rubbed her temples.

Xander looked at his best friends in a mixture of disbelief and guilt. "Did I do that? I mean, yeah, I totally lack charm and suave- under normal circumstances, but seriously, Will, I didn't mean to-"

"It's not you." Willow cocked her head and stared after her lover as she now hurried along outside the diner's windows. "I don't know what it is..."

* * *

It was like a coal against her leg. Another letter. She hid them from Willow, simply for the purpose of not explaining more than she wanted to. She'd had three in two months, more than she'd had in her entire freshman year. She'd read each of them, only once, but the words were so cold and clear, cutting like frost on fragile flowers. She could recite them all, and recited this most recent one to herself now, as shaking fingers reached for the folded and creased paper.

_"You need to come back home, Tara. We've given you as much time as we can, but you're about to lose any freedom you've had if you act stubborn and foolish. I don't know what the California people put in your head, but I am your father, and your only parent, and you will listen to me._

_ If you're not back at the house three days before your birthday, your brother and I will drive out with the truck to get your things and bring you home._

_ Please be responsible and come home yourself. We can help you. You don't want to end up like your mother."_

She tossed the note in the street side trash bin with a hasty wipe of her eyes, and shoved herself in the back room of the gallery with a stifled sob.

"Tara?"

"Oh. M- Mr. Giles, I-" She jumped like a rabbit hearing a shotgun blast over its burrow. The graying man with his glasses shoved on top of his head was holding a ledger and an auction catalog, apparently about to sit at the cramped desk in the back office.

"Are you well?" He moved to take her arm and recoiled in unison with her deep flinch. "Tara, what's wrong?"

"I- I really just miss my- m-mom today." She was truthful.

"Oh... I _am_ sorry. Perhaps I could, that is to say, is there something I could -?"

"No. I- I'm fine." The stutter was more pronounced than it had been in weeks, and Giles' already lined brow wrinkled further.

_Her mother died of cancer. This must be awful for her. I wish I could let her know that Joyce won't meet the same fate._ Nagging reminders of his new doubts prevented that, on top of the other reasons. "Silly of me. Nothing replaces those special people in your life."

_I only have had one special person in so long. Willow. They can't make me go, can't make me leave her. I'll run, I'll fight, I'll- I'll hide. But then I still won't have her. And I'm supposed to "choose love". I'm not a demon and they all know it. I can't convince my dad, he isn't open minded, he won't listen..._

She seemed to wilt without even moving, Giles thought. The sweetness and light left her eyes and that curiously wise and angelic face. Poor girl. "Would- erm- would a substitute father be of any use at all?"

A laugh bubbled out, pitifully choked as she nodded, but didn't move towards him. Fathers didn't embrace daughters, not hers at least, and there were no good memories of touch, not after her mother was sick, not after she died.

"I thought I heard Tara's voice in here." Joyce glided into the back, a small black accounts' log held in her hand, standing tall and still somehow quietly sure of herself in spite of her illness, general fatigue, and the sapphire blue scarf wrapped around her pale brow. "What's wrong?"

Tara swallowed and Giles stepped in with a discreet half-whisper, "She misses her mother."

"Oh. Ohhh, I know." Joyce slid easily to her and enfolded her with that innate maternal instinct Tara craved so much at the moment, yet displayed so easily in herself. "I miss mine, too."

"As do I." Giles patted her back awkwardly with the edge of his ledger.

"Thank you." Tara sniffed in and stepped back. "I didn't mean to d-do that."

"Please, what are friends for?" Joyce patted her back comfortingly once more before passing behind her.

With a silent smile, Tara eased from the room. _Sometimes they're for being the family you wish you had._

* * *

"Hail, hail the gang's all here." Spike crashed back on to Giles' couch. "That hasn't happened in some time, eh Rupes?"

"Get your feet off my coffee table and don't smoke in here." He replied waspishly. The flat was a flurry of activity, and he didn't like it. He wanted to be where Joyce was, especially after her first day back at work.

"Pizza man, comin' through, comin' through, ham and pineapple on the right, olive and pepper on the left, and Anya has plain for you cowards."

"Sodas!"

"Not on the coffee table! Willow, move those knives please. Buffy, you need to whittle your own stakes this week, I'm behind, I'm afraid."

"I got it Buffster, it's part of the carpentry gig."

"But what if we're moving this week?"

"Sweetie, that place is too big for my paycheck."

"But not for ours together!" Anya passed out paper plates and beamed around the room. "It's perfect for us."

"I'll still have time to whittle a few stakes, even if we're moving this week- which we're not!"

"Guys, guys!" Buffy shouted loudly and the room came to a halt. Wow. Two weeks and she'd seen these people every single day- and nothing Scooby related- in the slaying sense- had even remotely transpired, not since her Blame Sineya meltdown.

For that, she silently recognized, she'd been relieved. With the couple brain cells not devoted to college and cancer, she'd been glad to avoid her friends digging deeper into the dreams. No one talked about the dreams and no one researched powers or anything else. Which meant no one found out about the soul, or the lack of chip and Spike's new features remained, as vaguely instructed, "hidden". So they couldn't take him away. "I don't need new stakes. I've dusted a couple vamps this week, and that's all."

"Isn't that weird? Isn't fall and the darker days literally leading to- well, darker days?" Xander put pizza on outstretched plates and looked at the agitated heroine in their continuing drama.

"Yeah, but I've been trying to be home for Mom and classes started and I haven't been out as much." Buffy hedged. _Code for- my patrolling skills sucked this week and last week was worse. Whole new levels of suckage._

"I've been hittin' what I can, and haven't heard too much around Willy's, haven't seen any new vamps or unusual uglies." Spike covered neatly for her.

"We were all in super research mode and then- stuff happened." Willow looked apologetically at Buffy. "Not that Joyce doesn't come first!"

_She never has before._ Buffy fiddled with her hair. "I'm not used to that, actually." She told her shoulder, not looking at them. Silence followed her words for moment.

"Well," Tara looked around, "I don't know Joyce that well, b-but she doesn't seem like she usually asks for a lot of help."

The response was instant. "One tough lady." Spike absently rubbed the back of his head.

"Formidable, focused certainly." Giles agreed.

"Buffy's mom is really awesome." Willow patted Tara's knee.

"She would have made one heck of a vengeance demon."

"Ahn, Sweetie."

"It's a compliment!"

"Thanks, guys. Thanks for pitching in." Buffy sat down, on Spike's lap, not caring if it still caused some mildly (or completely) weirded out glances. "So... we're research bound?"

"I thought we wanted to make that dream chart thing?"

Xander and Giles exchanged glances, and this time Spike was not deterred from pointing it out. "Spill! You always do that, you always bloody well do that, an' it's drivin' me bloody bonkers!"

More glances, this time Buffy's was in the mix, and her elbow gouged Spike's chest.

_Bollocks. Joyce bein' okay, that's the old man's big secret, his little ace in the sleeve. Us bein' together. Not s'posed to mention too much about the new man that's part of the "us", not that it matters to her, but it sure as hell mattered to someone. Sod it, he's okay with us bein' together, an' maybe there was more than just Watcherly affection behind it. There were reasons, things he knows. Sod, the_ soul_! If he knows, is he in on the secret, or is it some sort of breach of the- no, wait the dream told him not Buffy, not me. Can't pin this on us, you hear me, you little monks?_

"You're getting lumpy, calm down." Buffy hissed as Giles began speaking, the words dragging from him.

"The uh- the previous Watchers did not merely show me the difference between choosing love and performing my duties as a Watcher. They helped learn to blend them-"

"And open up to a loving and sexual relationship. With Joyce, obviously." Anya offered her encouragement.

"Now really!" Giles hissed.

"It's okay. She told me. Apparently you only got better with age."

Giles bowed his head, sighed, and realized he would probably never change Anya. Actually, he knew it for certain. He just resigned himself to it with a minuscule smile. "Thank you, Anya. May I continue?"

"Of course. All of you are way too uptight." She sat back with a magnanimous wave. Spike reached over Buffy's shoulder and gave her a thumbs up.

"Very well then. They showed me a few glimpses of life in the future." Eager, questioning, and fearful looks shot at the burdened man. "_Glimpses_. I am not a crystal ball. Key events, and not all of them. Do you understand?" Silent nods. "I believe that based on what I saw..." _I have to tell them _something_. Some hope, some help, the same gift given to me, and meant to be used to encourage, to urge to fight the good fight. Is that not my duty? What am I here for if not to help, isn't that love? And I combine both._

_ Buffy already knows, Spike knows through her, Xander I've told. Why not the rest? I can still make them understand how serious things are, can't I? I don't need to say much. The English excel at well chosen words, after all._

He kept his eyes from Xander's face as he continued, "Joyce will be fine- eventually. All of us will. I'm not saying it isn't risky, I'm not saying healing is quick and simple. I don't those things. I'm not saying that I can offer promises, only tell you what I saw, blurred and quick as it was." Tense and understanding nods let him know they weren't going to press him or question his statement. He relaxed slightly. "Spike and Buffy, you do belong together, as I told you."

"I wanna put my two cents in." Xander spoke up suddenly. Giles' gave him an imperceptible shake of his head, lips tightening further. "I had the dream within a dream thing."

"You left that out." Willow frowned. "Why didn't you tell us?"

_Because I don't want to tell you everyone we love dies or goes crazy. Or that maybe you're the one who does it, Willow. Because maybe you killing me is the last thing I ever see, and I have no idea who that screaming little girl is that they threatened to "send" without Spike around, but screaming little girls are never a good thing._ "Because I told you the main point." He said slowly. "Spike is the key to Buff's heart. Also, he's apparently the Watcher approved choice- figure _that _one out- but I just wanted to say, um, Tara, Willow, you guys were nice enough to give me a little crystal ball preview. Spike, you have to stay around. Buffy- well, Buffy can't do this without you." _So says a a lot of blood and glassy eyes looking up at nothing. _ "Sorry to piss you off, Buffster, but-"

"No, Xan, it's true. I can't do this, without _any _of you."

_God, she an' the witches are about to blub. _Spike shifted up in his seat and put his hand firmly in the small of her back, a silent push for her to hold steady. "You both had the same dream?"

"No." Both "visionaries" said quickly.

"But the same key points." Giles spun the information slightly. "Buffy and Spike, you're a team, we're all a team."

"Go Scoobies." Willow cried softly, eyes still wide, staring.

Pizza lay limp on plates, sodas rested on knees, no one spoke. A lot to take in, and a lot they knew wasn't said.

"How were the dreams different?" Willow, ever the agile, curious scholar had to ask Xander.

Hard to have a conversation in silence, Giles thought, studying the boy suddenly maturing under pressure, their eyes locking for mere seconds, not long enough to give anything away.

"Kind of a with, without version of life. And you know, my dream makes Giles' glimpses look like the expanded box set with director commentary. Thirty seconds of footage for me, tops." Xander rambled.

"With or without what?"

"Our chosen halves." Giles interposed swiftly. "All of us are better off with the ones we love. And that is final, and all we will say on the matter for now. As Watcher, I advise the Slayer, as your f-friend," _drat it, don't say father_, "I also offer you my opinion. Don't focus too heavily on this." _Especially not now that you know there is a less attractive path._ "There are always choices-"

"Choose love." Anya repeated the recurring lesson with an affectionate squeeze on Xander's palm.

"The second Spike, his reflection in m-my room, and it was the reflection or the real one- but I had to choose- and it turned out okay." Tara added to bolster the idea.

"Two faces." Willow nodded.

"Lots of doubles."

"Always paths you can choose."

"Choose love. I _said_ that."

"Yes, Anya, you said that." Buffy smiled genuinely, for the first time in hours. "So... Watcher-mine?" She put her hand up to her chin. "Advise Slay Gal, over."

"Is this something I should know about?" Tara whispered to Willow.

"Because I wanted to be a pilot, back in the days before paths were assigned to me." Giles chuckled at Buffy. "Impressive. You listened to me."

"Always do." Buffy grinned. He raised one eyebrow slowly. "Almost!"

"Go do a thorough patrol. Tomorrow night however, as I know we're both anxious to get back to your mother. In terms of research, these future paths are not crucial right now, those were merely moments in a more complex puzzle. First things first, back to Sineya's origins. Somewhere, in someone's dream, there was a mention about that. I can't recall it precisely, yet there was something that puzzled me." He chewed on the stem of his glasses.

"Oh not the bloody dream notes again."

"Hey!" Tara and Willow chorused.

"I worked hard on those, and so did Giles! And if everyone made the chart like I suggested..." Willow trailed off, glaring at the vampire.

"Don't fight, children." Giles groaned and heaved himself out of the chair. "Tea?"

"Blood?"

"Beer?"

"Cookies?" Buffy asked hopefully and sprang up to rummage in the pantry. _Good to be on a path with these guys, wherever it's going. It can't be too bad if they're all with me. Right?_

* * *

"I can't find it. Maybe I'll have to read through the entire thing over again, just on my own." Giles gave up, several hours later, and closed one of the journals.

"When you've got all this free time, right, mate?" Spike was relaxed enough to joke good naturedly.

"Ha bloody ha." Giles responded in a slightly grittier, but still civil tone.

"What I want to know is- why did they give you the sneak peeks?" Willow addressed Xander and Giles.

"That's the science girl. Can't just look at the big picture, has to find the reasons." Xander clinked his long empty beer bottle to her mug of now cold tea.

"No, c'mon. The dreams were meant to teach us stuff-"

"Or kill you for breaking the Chosen _One_, and only one rule." Anya butted.

"Right. So how come you got extras?" Willow fought down a pout. "I didn't get any extras. I had to go through severe anxiety inducing stage fright!"

"Oh boo hoo." Spike mumbled. "They got 'em 'cause they needed 'em, leave it be." _Don't dig too deep. Don't find too much. I still haven't told you all they told me, and you lot are smart enough to read between the lines, once you hear 'em._

"Needed them for what though?" Tara frowned. "I- I remember being part of something-the speaker. There were parts missing, too, and not just because the voices weren't speaking through me, but because it was time to let someone else speak. I think..." She trailed off, aware she couldn't explain the feeling, the feeling that sometimes she was the conduit, sometimes merely a girl in a dream, and that she sensed more than they might be able to, when both those actions seemed to be "cut off".

"It's all terribly muddled." Giles rationalized supportively.

"You get dreams as tools, to teach you things or prepare you for things." Anya mused.

"Usually in Slayerland it's to prepare you." Buffy groaned. "It is, isn't it? Giles? It is. They gave-" she halted the ill-chosen words about to escape, _they gave Spike a soul and destroyed his chip because-_, "they gave you guys hints because you knew we needed to keep everyone who helped out at the last major meltdown around for a future major meltdown? Right? Confirm, deny, something?"

"I'm with you on that." Xander shrugged. "Because you know nothing short of divine intervention would make me okay with you dating another member of the undead community." Buffy hit him with a throw pillow as she paced by him, and he winced. "But I am okay with it! Look at me, I'm intervention boy, all with the Spike- tolerance."

"Oh goody goody, we'll be the best of friends." Spike groused. Giles gave a loud and completely out of place cough and became very interested in his polished wingtips. _Oh sod it! He can't mean it. He's messing with me. No, he looks too uncomfortable to be messing about. Sod it all. _

"It seems logical. Tipping everyone off that something we'd normally be concerned about is a-okay." Willow, eyes sliding worriedly from Giles, spoke up.

"You realize all of you rehash things way too much?" Anya began looking through one of Giles' books on sculpture with the eye of a practicing buyer.

"It's because if you don't figure things out right- you end up dead. Anyone remember the little 'The Master will kill the Slayer' deal? Turns out the Master needed the Slayer to come down and free him, and if I hadn't gone, I wouldn't have died and he wouldn't have gotten loose from his literal hellhole?" Buffy said with sarcastic brightness. Giles winced and Xander glowered, clearly reminded of Angel and his inability to resuscitate Buffy.

"I'm with Anya. No, don't roll your eyes, Slayer, you admit I'm good at seein' through the crap. We got information. Information is simple. I stay. You an' me, meant to be." He paused, waiting for a challenge, and none came. He shrugged his shoulders, caged muscles tired of book work, ready for a brawl, "Everyone gets their little insight, everyone's all cozied up, Scoobies Forever, rah rah rah. Question is now- what's comin' that they want us to fight?" _What could be bad enough you give a vamp a soul, and why in the world would you do that in the first place? 'Specially since she loved me already, loved me an' would have stood by me, even without it._

"Something's coming to town. Something always does." Buffy whispered. "So what is it this time?"

From her seat on the floor, Tara's palms began to sweat. _It's not me. I know it's not me. And it's not them. They're not evil, and no one would ever fight them, even if they were. They're just humans._

Giles met Buffy's eyes as he felt her question was aimed at him. He had flashes, he knew faces. What made them so sinister was unclear, what their role was lacked any sort of definition. "Honestly, Buffy, I have no idea."

* * *

Howling wind and darkness ceased, and then a sound like a comet crashing burst through their ears, as their bodies burst through a dimension inside a dimension, souls and forms reunited.

Three bodies slammed to the cold concrete floor of a disused warehouse basement on the earthly mouth of hell.

"We've arrived." The holy man gasped softly, before he lost consciousness, finally, after weeks in some sort of suspended animation. His gnarled, withered hands unclenched from the precious cargo he'd been clutching tightly and unceasingly. Something smooth, round, and golden gently rolled from his grasp and came to rest as his side.

* * *

_To be continued..._


	13. Part XII

**Unknown **

**By Sweetprincipale**

_This is set in my non-canon, but canon-esque series following Uncontrollable and Unmentionable. If you haven't read those first, please do, or this won't read nearly as well or make much sense. Unknown begins a few weeks after the end of Unmentionable, around the beginning of season five._

_Author's Note: I seemed to have lost a lot of people over the week! I hope you're all back and reading again! Not as wordy as the last chapter, but lots of plot movement and some big conversations._

_Author's Second Note: Picks up where the last chapter left off/ overlapping with the end of the previous chapter._

_Dedicated to: Alexiarrose, ginar369, omslagspapper, Dlillith21, Sirius120, Jackiemack916, and Mike13z50. Thank you for taking time to review. You're the reason I keep sharing my work. _

_Direct Quotes are obviously not mine, but belong to the fabulously talented and creative people who wrote them. In this case, some of season five's dialogue will be used. _

_**Disclaimer: Nothing of Buffy belongs to me, except my sincere admiration. However, this story is all mine.**_

**Part XII**

_The previous evening, in Africa... _

"Do you feel better, Your Magnificence?" Jinx clasped his hands as he groveled beside the weakened figure.

"Keep 'em coming, I'm not full yet." Glory flexed her finger tips as another human stumbled away, muttering incoherently.

But that had been the last human they'd seen for miles, captured hours ago. "That will have to do for awhile, My Queen, unless you'd like to take my most unworthy mind as a humble offering?"

"Demon brains don't work on this realm." She patted his stringy hair as he bowed, then staggered up. "We're at The Cave. I saw this. The Ancients showed me this..." She looked at the vegetation guarding the sudden out crop of rock. "How'd we get here so fast?"

"We used magic, I'm afraid."

"Why? Didn't you tell me not to do that?"

"We had no choice, after your collapse and- uh- the magical outpouring that caused it." He smiled ingratiatingly, hoping she wouldn't fly into a rage for mentioning her own bad choices.

"I had to do it. Priest Boy wasn't cutting it." Glory gave a disrespectful scoff to her chief minion.

"Of course, Mighty Glory." He followed in her wake as she marched towards the cave's entrance.

"It's a cave. It's a big, freaking, mossy, stinking cave!" Glory shouted after a cursory examination of the inside. "This can't be the right cave! You can't hide a place so mystically powerful, even in the middle of some rotten, humid jungle- oh damn, my hair is _so_ going to need to be conditioned, I'm frizzing like I stuck a fork in the toaster- without some sort of guardian, or some kind of lock or password! This is just a big piece of rock!"

"The best camouflage is often hiding something in plain sight." One of her mages put forth.

"Hm. It looks the same..." Glory walked around it, and let her mind, still tingling with the rush of feeding on a few hapless humans, relax and reach out into the atmosphere. "I can smell..."

"Monks?"

"Pure energy? The Key?"

"_Layers_." Glory's hands swept the air around her, then turned to her followers. "If we need a secret language or a 'real boy' to get into this..."

"We have been working while you slept." Her head mage bowed. "We have our scrying fires set up, and this close to the monks we may be able to-"

Glory smacked her hands to her unruly hair. "They're not_ in _there."

"They- they aren't? You cried 'The Cave!' before you collapsed, we imagined that this was where they were hidden!"

"They were in some dark, shadowy place. But this was the last place they were _before _that. The Ancients speak in pictures and actions, and that's the image I got. We need to go in there, and track them down from that last point, like bloodhounds on a scent." She closed her fist with a malicious smile and deep inward breath. "Nothing so putrid as human blood. The sooner we track them down so I can get out of this repulsive skin full of it-" she brushed her arms down harshly, "the better."

"Of course." The head mage turned away and hurriedly grabbed two of his assistants. "Arco, Gree, spell books open. Let's try a rending of the veil curse and see what we can do."

* * *

It took hours of spells, and a sacrifice, oh the hazards of being a minion- but they managed to tear through all the layers of protection guarding the cave, and bypass the guardians they knew existed in those layers. The amount of magic they used was sure to be attracting attention from interested parties, but the desperation of the situation had won out for the moment. They hoped to get what they sought and be far away before anyone looked for them.

However, the Cave of Souls didn't yield its secrets easily.

Glory and her trail of wary followers entered the true cave uncloaked, a place where dark and light seem to dance and trade places, the deeper you went, the lighter it was, until you hit that void of pitch black. There, paths through time and distance are swallowed up, and so are those who can those who find it, swallowed whole, body and soul.

Key word _soul_. You have to have a pure soul to take the ride, though you don't need one to see the station.

They stood on the impenetrable edge of the true cave inside the cave, seeing the pool of darkness waiting to envelope them, but unable to enter, follow the path of their enemies.

"This must be that dark mass they were in. It _was _the Cave, just this little riddle inside of it. Place within a place. Sneaky little robed bastards." Glory muttered, stretching out her hand, and finding it stopped by something unseen.

"There must be guardians we can call upon to grant you access, both good and evil, for there are many types of souls." Jinx hesitantly hinted that Ben's form might be needed. "I've even heard tell that there are ways to gain souls in this place, if you-"

"If you had one to begin with." Glory spat. "I don't have one, I am what _eats_ souls. Gods make, gods take, but we don't _hav_e. It makes it so much easier to do what you want." She rubbed her throbbing temple as she looked desperately around. "I can't be in this body anymore. The noises, the clawing little feelings, the emotions, the humanness... I'm _dying!_ Do you understand how wrong that is? I'm _immortal_! I should never die!"

Used to her fits of hysteria by now, but always moved each time, her faithful ones made mourning noises and exchanged frantic, helpless looks.

"Don't call any guardians. I don't want in, I want them _out_. Can you do it?"

The priests and mages exchanged looks. "We will try."

"Not good enough. Can you-" she advanced on them, "_do_ it?"

"If they are still inside this void, there may be a way to drag them back. If they have already reached their destination-" the mage shrugged helplessly, "all we can do it use our scrying fires to see where they landed, look again for the bright pinpoints in the places of great goodness. We would have a greater chance of success here, being so close to their presences. Metaphysically speaking."

"Well, do it, do something, do both things." Glory retreated and stared hungrily into the blackness. "Pull them back if they're still cowering in there, or tell me where they've gone."

* * *

_Same time, different place..._

Howling wind and darkness ceased, and then a sound like a comet crashing burst through their ears, as their bodies burst through a dimension inside a dimension, souls and forms reunited.

Three bodies slammed to the cold concrete floor of a disused warehouse basement on the earthly mouth of hell.

"We've arrived." The holy man gasped softly, before he lost consciousness, finally, after weeks in some sort of suspended animation. His gnarled, withered hands unclenched from the precious cargo he'd been clutching tightly and unceasingly. Something smooth, round, and golden gently rolled from his grasp and came to rest as his side.

* * *

_Africa_

Nothing emerged from the inky depths, and the map of flares and fires yielded nothing. No bright flashes of essence in the safe havens and shelters where holy men with noble missions would hide.

"We have... lost the trail, Most Feared and Beautiful One." Jinx delivered the bad news with a placating bow.

The rage boiled over, burned- and dissolved as the sun rose and a male face took her place.

"Cool cave, Jinx." Ben stretched and stared at the stricken ring of faces before him, most of them bowing and kneeling. "Glory about to start massacring everyone?" He yawned.

"Do not joke! Your sister's Key has been stolen and transported and we've lost the path to find it!" Jinx cried.

"Bummer." Ben rose, hiding his pleasure and the guilty fear he felt. Fear of dying. Fear of living in a hell on earth, but still being alive. Focus on the now, that's all he could ever enjoy. "I'm starved. Are we near a deli or anything?"

Behind the circle of minions, three faint flickers went unnoticed, for multiple reasons.

They were deceptively dim, for they represented beings close to death, and beings who'd been in between realms for so long that they no longer seemed to hold the shape of human presence, sort of flickering on the line between life and death, here and there.

The flare went unnoticed because the monks had been skilled at hiding and cloaking their beings under layers of holy and mystical protections, and always merging into places where such holiness and piety were consider the norm.

Finally, they went unnoticed, because those watching the scrying map so intently made a mistake they'd been counting on, counting on for the Key's safety, and for theirs. Those watching the world for signs of their arrival kept their eyes trained to the purest parts of the world.

They utterly missed three pinprick flashes, fading quickly into nothingness, in a downtrodden Hellmouth, a place of darkness.

* * *

_The present ..._

"Feels good to be gettin' ready to be back on the beat. Look out Hellmouth!" Spike bounced on the balls of his feet excitedly. "Right, Luv?"

"Did you have coffee or some weird kind of blood? Kangaroo, maybe?" Buffy put on a pair of thicker jeans as they stood in her room. It was odd to see nothing in the mirror, and yet feel his hands smoothing down her sweater._ Never gonna get used to this._

"Cocoa." Spike grinned. "Your mum made it for me when we got home."

_Another thing I'll never get used to._ "Awesome." Buffy wound her hair in a bun. "Did she- um- say anything?"

"She said I had a nice eye for Impressionists and statuary, and what did I think about keeping a few fine jewelry pieces in the display case? That estate sale Giles is headin' to has some, and Anya says it'd increase the profit margin considerably and open up a new customer base."

Buffy turned and blinked at him. "I meant about _us_."

"Oh. Yeah, she said to get you home early and in one piece."

Slipping an extra stake in her boot and one in her waist band, Buffy sighed. "That's okay I guess. Did she say it in a 'dating' voice or a 'sort of team member-slash-partner' voice?"

It was Spike's turn to blink. "I think you have to ask Red or Tara those kinds of questions."

"Spi-ike!"

"I dunno, Luv! She said it friendly enough."

"I even told her we were going to the Bronze after."

"We are?"

"Maybe, but I was trying to hint. Y'know? You, me, not strictly slaying, also making with dancing and dating." Buffy sighed. "I can't be all blunt and bold when someone's pale and sickly looking."

Spike looked heavenward with a snort, "I'm pretty damn pale, an' last time I was sickly, you tied me to chair an' then chained me in a tub. You do alright with the direct approach."

Buffy scowled. "I meant unnaturally pale."

"Oh, I can do unnatural if you want, Baby," his hands found their way to her slender but curved hips, "I got plenty of tricks in mind, things you'd find perfectly 'unnatural', though I think they'd come dead naturally to you an' me."

Her insides went into liquid lava mode, and she leaned against him, pelvis swiveling. "Such as- Spike! You're not helping!"

"I am. You can do anything, Pet. Don't forget that." He pushed them apart and jerked open her bedroom door, before he could pin her down to the bed and start running through his fantasy list. "After you."

Buffy marched past him, and he followed, their paths suddenly diverging sharply, his heading downstairs while Buffy held back and lingered at her mother's door. "Go on out, I'll be there in a minute." She mumbled as he paused, then knocked on the door.

"Hm?" Joyce's faint voice indicated tiredness or pain, and Buffy's heart pulsed guiltily.

"Mom? I'm heading out to do a patrol. I wanted to kiss you goodnight."

"Come in, Sweetie." Joyce sat up and quickly tucked her scarf around her ravaged scalp. "I'll probably be up by the time you get back. I've been napping a lot this evening." Joyce tried to sound perky, always the mother, and the mother is always strong for her baby.

"Ooh, don't wait up Mom. I mean, Giles really got on me the other night. I haven't done a good patrol since-" she halted abruptly, "it's been awhile." She concluded lamely.

"You've been very helpful, Honey. You have a wonderful bunch of friends, and I'm grateful." Joyce smiled, knowing the reason her daughter had been at home more. "I won't wait up. You'll be home in time to get some rest before class, right? I know you mentioned you and Spike had to check out that club, but all the clubs and restaurants close by two."

_Oh here we go. I'm the Slayer. Hear me roar. _Joyce looked at her expectantly. _Or whimper in fear. Damn "Mom Eyes"._ "I know they do. And the Bronze is usually like a vampire magnet, so definitely going to be on hit list tonight. After we check it out... Spike and I usually like to get something to drink, maybe meet the guys-"

"You're not drinking are you?" Joyce asked worriedly.

"Only soda, I promise. Beer is bad. Very bad." Buffy stated emphatically, and catching the sudden flash in her mother's eyes, moved on hurriedly. "So, yeah. Hanging out after patrol. And then it's pretty late." She rose from the bed and inched towards the door. "I've been thinking sometimes I should probably just stay at his place, it's closer to campus, and now that Giles is here, and it's-"

"In a cemetery?" Joyce gasped, mortified, clutching the fabric over her heart.

"It's a nice little- um." _Don't say crypt! _" It's bigger than the apartment I had in LA." Buffy blurted, trying to find reason and logic.

It failed. Her mother looked stunned, and then said, "You lived in some tiny little slum apartment?"

"Well- yeah, but that's not the point." She paced, hands clasping and unclasping. "It's like a little house. There's a television and chairs and a fridge. You should come over, Spike's got this carpet you'd love, and oh, lighting sconces that are..."_ I just invited my mom to a crypt. Spike's crypt. Oh my God, maybe I have something messing with my head, too._

Joyce's eyebrows brushed her scarf. "You sound like you spend a lot of time there." Her voice had a definite questioning edge. _I knew it._

"Well... I do, Mom." Buffy stopped pacing. "I try to see him every day. He's one of my best friends. He understands me, he helps me, he helps all of us, you, too."

A thousand thoughts battled in Joyce's head, all she'd learned about slayers, and all her suspicions, all she'd seen Spike do- and what she knew he'd done long ago, when he was still Buffy's enemy.

_Broken girls, like Artemis, alone, hunting, always alone, Slayers get hard on the inside, they lose what makes them human..._

_ Spike is far from human. He can't possibly make her hang on to humanity, he might take it farther away from her. She needs people, she needs love, yes, but not like that. She needs a human. _

"Mom?"

But Joyce didn't hear her. _He's a monster. But what kind of a monster loves art, and reads people like books, makes jokes, and holds my daughter when she was crying outside my hospital room? Takes me to cancer treatments in the afternoons, even though he puts himself at risk of dying in the sun? What kind of monster saves a Watcher, and helps save the world? Saves my daughter? Saves the man I love?_

"Mom, please, you're really scaring me. I don't have to stay there, it was just a thought." Buffy backed down.

"He's- he's not the kind of person I thought you'd want to hang out with." Joyce hedged, snapping back to the conversation.

The Slayer groped for an answer, and the only one she could come up with was, "Maybe I'm not the person I thought I was. Maybe all of us aren't what we want to be, Mom. But we try. He tries, too, harder than you know."

"He's a _vampire_." _Vampires are just- they're many things, but good was not one of them. _

"I know."

"He's dangerous." Fear for your children is something that outweighs all the rationalizations you throw at it. At least, for a very long time, especially when there's so much danger you can never protect her from, when fate gave your baby more than her fair share of living nightmares.

"I know he is. So am I." Buffy smiled sadly. "And believe me, Mom, I'm the nicest Slayer in a _long_ time. Probably because I keep trying, and I keep making friends with people who keep trying too."

"He's done- good things. I thanked him for helping you. And Mr. Giles. Back when Angelus," Joyce's lips thinned and then her tone changed, "Angel changed Buffy."

"I know. He lost his soul. Spike-" _Don't lie, because then everything will come out later and smack you in the face, _"Spike and I have a relationship that isn't based on souls or being good or bad, Mom. Okay? It's because we like to be together, and we help each other, and Spike and I care about each other."

_That sounds so- uncertain. Ambiguous._

_ That was kinda weak. But on the other hand if I said, "I love Spike and we're having wild sex and I want to live with him in a cemetery" she might just explode. Or faint. She's already weak, she could get worse if she gets upset and I tire her out..._

"Mom, I really have to go. The darker it gets, the more the creepy crawlies come out and the more innocent people get hurt. I'll come home tonight, okay? And we'll talk about it tomorrow night?" She offered.

Well, her daughter certainly had matured, she'd give her that much. _Look at that face, all grave and grown up. The weight of the world... Everything I want to spare her._ "You think Spike is special?" Joyce inquired quietly.

"Yes. But it doesn't matter if no one else thinks it. He's special to me. I'm special to him." Buffy kissed her mom's forehead, wishing she could "kiss it better". "No matter what happens, that's how it is. I don't really think you can change that, Mom."

Joyce watched her leave the room, with graceful but firm strides. Every inch a young woman and a fighter. She knew what she wanted, and she said it calmly, unshakably.

With a sudden sharp stab of pain, Joyce reclined, eyes closed. A tear seeped from under her eyelid, but she didn't know if it was a tear of pride or sadness.

_When did Buffy become an adult? And how did I miss it? Why am I always the last to know?_

* * *

Buffy stepped onto the porch and let out a huge, shaking sigh.

"Well?" Spike demanded, stepping from behind the front hedge, making her yelp. "Thought you'd be right out, you were gone for more'n ten minutes." He ran a hand through his slicked hair, half smoked cig between his index and middle finger.

"Take it easy, I just ended up talking to Mom for a little bit." Buffy trotted down the steps to fall into step beside the agitated man. Three cigarette butts lay on the sidewalk. "Someone was antsy." She tried to kid.

"Were you talkin' to her about us?" He was not in a kidding mood.

"Maybe." Buffy smiled slightly, but it didn't reach her eyes. "I don't know. I thought I was doing a good job, but she just- she doesn't hear me. Maybe I'm not clear enough."

"What'd you say?" Spike took her hand as he asked quietly.

"That I care about you. And you're special to me, I'm special to you. That I want to see you every day, and you're not good, but I don't care, as long as you're on my side in a fight, in this life." Buffy let the words fall free. "I told her maybe I could stay with you tonight, and she wigged a little, and I stopped pushing. I backed down. Then I did the dance of avoidance and the call of the vampire, and put off talking until another day." She balled her hands to her sides and shook out her shoulders in frustration. "Sorry."

"Sorry?" Spike wanted to crow. He wanted to carry her on his shoulders. "You told your mum all that? What the bloody hell are you sorry about?" He swooped her up in a hug, squeezing a breathless half-laugh from her.

"You always go the whole way, you're the barge in type. You brought Drusilla home to meet your mother and you weren't ashamed of her, even knowing what she was." Buffy hugged him back, but then tugged him into a brisk walk. "You're not ashamed of anything."

Spike was silent for a few steps, although he gripped her hand tightly, and shook his head, leaning to plant a kiss on her hairline. "Luv, listen to me." She looked at him from the corner of her eye, enough to let him know she was hearing him. "You're not ashamed of me- you're protective of me, of what we've got, 'cause it was bloody hard to get. You think I can't tell the difference? You think I'm not the same way about you, or would be if I had any family left?" He blew a light puff of smoke to stall, to keep the sudden glossiness coming to his eyes from going down his cheeks.

"Spike-" She could hear the faint catch, but he pushed past her concern.

"You know, Slayer, if I'd been a little more cautious, with a little less 'bargin' in'- my mum, well, she might've been proud of me, as Joyce is of you."

"God, Spike, Mom isn't proud of me, she thinks I'm a troublemaker with really bad taste in men!" Buffy countered, shocked by his words, a hard laugh under her blurted protest.

"Joyce talks about you all the damn time, Buffy, you're her world, and her only child, jus' like - jus' like my mum an' I." He stomped the ground a little harder, walked a little faster, as if he could outrun confessions ad old pains.

"You don't have to talk about it." Buffy whispered. "Okay? We're not going anywhere, right? We have time. You can tell me about it someday, if you want."

Spike nodded his jutted jaw once, and changed the subject. "Start in town, or the perimeter and work our way in?"

Wishing she could get far away from the house, the hospital, the campus, all the pressures, and just fight back at something in her life, she chose the perimeter. "Let's go where even _you_ don't like to hang out." She gave him a crooked a smile.

Spike chuckled. "That's my girl."

"I am you know. Even if no one ever knows it but us."

Smiling silence held sway for a few yards, before she made one more stab at consolation. "We _are_ gonna talk tomorrow, Mom and I."

He rolled his eyes. "Look, Pet, let's put this in perspective, shall we?"

"Huh?"

"Firstly, I think the way you handled it is fine, when I'm calm and rational."

"So once every couple decades?" Buffy mumbled, earning a glare.

"Secondly," he continued loudly, "when Dru took me home to her dear Daddy and Grandmum," he paused for Buffy's deep wince, "I believe she said, 'Look what I made, isn't he beautiful?'"

"See, that's so sweet, in a vampire-y way. How is that making me feel better?"

" 'Cause I believe Darla's response was 'I told you to make yourself a playmate, not just pick up anything you find in the street. You'll do better next time."

"Really, really glad she's dead." Buffy hissed. Another few steps. "Angel?"

"Angelus." Kinder not to tell her, wasn't it? And the fact that he hesitated over bashing the man he hated passionately, for her sake, just made him realize she had her claws into him deep, deeper than anyone else ever had.

"Fine, Angelus."

"Not so bad." He shrugged and didn't look at her.

"Wow. Now that's devotion." Buffy gave him an admiring glance. _Spike playing down how much he hates Angel. That's true love, screw flowers and chocolate._ "Go on, you're not going to shock me."

"I idolized him. He treated me like a sort of kid you pick up when your regular pals aren't around. Makes sense, doesn't it? Dru took me to meet him first, 'cause Darla wasn't around at the moment, they'd had a row. See it clearly now, after it's done." He shook his head at the folly of his infatuation and overly forgiving heart. "Dru treated me the same, like they taught her to act. Preferred me- if Angelus wasn't around, and sort of like one of her pretties to play with."

She waited. There was more. She could always tell by the way his shoulders shifted around under that coat, like he was trying to shrug off something inside his skin.

"Told him I loved her. She made me, gave me life, and she was my destiny." He cinched her up to his side. "Not true, was it?"

"No, but you couldn't know that back then." Buffy laid her head on his chest, happy for once, to have a good destiny in teh midst of so much ugly fate. "So?"

"So. I came home one night, I'd told him I was goin' to meet Dru, and he went to find her first. Made sure I'd find them as soon as I came in, shaggin' away, half hidden by the bed curtains. Thought he was with someone else, right until he moved, sat her up to look at me, I heard her ask if I missed her..." Hatred lined his face.

"We fought. Told him not to touch her, said he knew, knew she was mine, that I loved her. He said I was a fool, and new at the game, proceeded to tell me how you play when you're a vampire. There's nothing that's ever yours, there's nothing that'll belong to you. There's nothing you'll ever love, an' nothing' that'll love you back."

Buffy's own features had gone hard in fury at the beast who wore her first love's face. "He's stupid. Evil. More stupid and evil than I thought." He snorted, already well aware of that.

She put her hands out to stop him and caught his eyes with her own. "He was wrong, too. You loved, and you never stopped loving. He wasn't like that."

"I know, Buffy."

She wasn't done. "He was wrong. _I_ love you. We _belong _to _each other_. So- so he can just - jump off something high and sunny onto something wooden and pointy!"

Spike's eyes opened comically wide, and a laugh escaped him. "No shit, Slayer?"

She made a strangled little grunt through gritted teeth. "God, no wonder they left us. They're both such-, Spike, give me a really bad curse word!"

He didn't. He was laughing too hard. "Ah, screw 'em. Not worth our time. But you get the point. I'm gonna love whatever you do, an' however long it takes to do it. You're the best I've ever had. In every way."

She smiled, and they leaned together. "Ditto."

* * *

With a contented sigh, they closed ranks as they worked their way to the edge of town, arms looping familiarly around each other. Soon she sped up, then him, then her, back and forth until they were running, indulging themselves with an equal competitor.

_Someone who-_

_ -loves me back._

In spite of everything, sly smiles graced moonlit faces.

* * *

"You- shouldn't be this -fast." Buffy panted as they dashed past streetlights which became fewer and farther between, seedy bars, out to the places where even the shadows preferred to go in after dark.

"Shouldn't let me sip your sweet champagne." He quipped, thumb tracing her chin, down into her jacket's collar.

"That was days ago." She swatted him away.

"Packs a punch." He eased his stride and they made their ways down to the narrow, black streets where the ground was permanently wet and slick as if it had always just finished raining, where broken down businesses stood vacant. "Mmm. Smell the evil." He opened his arms expansively. "Plenty of nests in the area. Mostly low key, criminal types, passin' for humans, or good at hidin'."

"No vamps?"

"Prolly some. It's a new autumn, and all sorts of things come to town this season, don't they?"

* * *

"Ooooh, Giles was right." Buffy stretched and twisted, cracking a kink out of her spine. "So needed to do a_ real _patrol."

"That was a big one." Spike kicked a large pile of dust to the side. "Nice roundhouse, Baby."

"I know. On my left side too, that's always my weaker spin."

"Well, your weaker side still broke his shoulder. Pretty good."

"C'mon, let's go find _you _something to kill." Buffy smiled playfully.

"Nah, I'm three to your two."

"I'll catch up."

They exited an alleyway and were about to turn back towards town, working their way home after a few hours of hard fighting, when Spike paused. He lifted his head, then cocked it. "Hold up."

"What? I'm not getting anymore tinglies."

"Dead bodies. Humans." His eyes narrowed in puzzlement. "Only it's not quite right. Dunno what that is, it's fresh, but it's..." He turned and prowled off towards a large concrete building set back in the next alley over.

"Dead but not dead... you smelled that when Adam was around, in his lab. _Please _tell me we're not dealing with another Frankenstein?"

"I don't think so." Spike's senses prickled in a different way, something unfamiliar was pulling at him. Whatever was inside him gave a little throb. "Follow me."

Buffy stepped silently after him, walking into the wide double doors of a former factory or warehouse, something big and boxy, set away from any other buildings.

"Down." Spike seemed to know just where to go, and the throb of unease in his chest was turning into a torrent.

"Spike, what are you-" Buffy trailed him down steel stairs, covered in years' worth of grime, slipping slightly.

"Down here!" Spike's eyes shone in the dark, flashing amber and back to blue before breaking into a run.

"Oh! Oh my gosh, Sir? Ma'am?" Buffy joined him, crouching next to a figure on the floor, wrapped in something long and tattered. She turned the form over. In the dark, her slayer senses compensated, and she saw a young man's face. The body was still warm, although not warm with life. It was still, cooling beneath her hands. "Spike, he's dead." Buffy took her hands off hastily.

Spike dragged his hands across the thick robes of a second figure, which shuddered feebly. "This one's still alive! Buffy, get the other one, maybe he's not gone yet!"

"Can't you hear a heartbeat?"

"Can't hear anything over this damn rush in my head!" Spike yanked the figure's head into his hand and supported it. "Oi, mate! You're gonna be fine, you're in good hands. Open your eyes, alright?"

A flicker of motion. Eyelids slowly parting. "You." The voice was faint and cracked, but full of such warmth.

Spike gazed at him hard, and the thudding pulsed to a halt. "_You_."

* * *

Across the room, Buffy dragged a heavy arm up and felt for a pulse. Something golden glowed as the sleeve lifted. "Oh!" She instinctively caught the object as it began to roll, dropping the arm. _Priorities, Buffy._

"You are his protector."

Buffy stifled a scream as she heard the voice, a mere whisper. "Oh God. You're alive, and that's good, we're gonna get you to a hospital." She let the little round ball go and shifted his shoulders from the floor.

"No. No, listen. I'm going and you're staying. You are his protector."

Buffy blinked, taking in the intent eyes in an elderly face. "Are you- do you know who I am? I think you might be delirious, okay?"

"You are the Key's protector. And he is yours." The monk smiled softly as Buffy's jaw went slack. "Take the sphere. The Dagon. You- protect- it." The breathing became labored.

"How do you know me? Who are you?" Buffy hissed, looking around frantically. "Spike, I need you!"

* * *

"It's really you." A hand clutched his.

"You're in a bad way. How'd you get outside my head, mate?" Spike didn't brush the hand away, though his impulse was to shake him off.

"Shh. Let me hold it. Let me hold it, I have guarded it for so long..." The hand tightened. Spike could feel the cold, even through his own cool skin.

"Alright, you're comin' with me, you're out of your gourd an' you're failin' fast."

"You don't know, do you?" The dark eyes were sad.

Spike's soul stung inside him. The man was dying. The monk from his dream, one of the three. "I know you, sure I do." He soothed softly.

"You don't know yourself." The smile opened up a lean, dark face, blood cracked lips struggled to form words. "But you will. At least I got to touch...once." The grip loosened, and twitched faintly. The eyes seemed to be struggling to remain open.

"Here. I got you." Spike grasped the hand tightly, and watched a look of peace wash over the dying face.

* * *

"Spike!"

"This is not for him, this is for you, Slayer."

Buffy was startled by the use of her title, and fell silent. They knew alright. "Who are you?"

"I am... Abbot. Holy ... Key." The words were rasping, and the hand reached past her, weakly seeking the small golden ball. "Please. Hold this."

"What is it?"

"Dagon. Yours for now."

"Da- what? I don't know that word! Am I supposed to do something with it? I mean, I know you're-" Buffy trailed off, and looked anxiously towards Spike, but he seemed engrossed in the huddled man on the floor in front of him.

"Dying? No. I'm only- done my duty. You're not. Take... this." He insisted.

Buffy grabbed the sphere tightly, and tried to wedge her arm under his neck, wanting to sit him up, get him to safety, do something. "I have it."

"Good. Protect it. Protect the Key. Don't give- to him. Until it's time..."

"Right, right, you can tell all about when me on the way to the hospital, let's just-"

"He will know when it's time." He resisted her efforts, lying back, dim eyes closing.

"At least tell me what it does!"

"The Key unlocks many things. So many things. Some to lock...some to open."

_Real helpful._ "How do I use this?" She whispered urgently, leaning over him as he seemed to settle, an air of one waiting about him.

"You don't. Protect it. Protect him." Eyes focused for one final second. "He protects _you_ in turn."

An uncomfortable feeling wriggled up her spine, as Xander's voice echoed in her head. _"Spike, you have to stay around. Buffy- well, Buffy can't do this without you."_

"I promise." Buffy tucked the object into the inner pocket of her jacket.

Reassured, the monk breathed his last, a restful look upon his face after months of struggle.

"Spike!" Buffy crawled back, lips quivering, eyes bright as she looked at the body. _You never get used to it. Part of being human, being alive._

"Here." His voice was soft, thick.

Buffy stumbled over to him, her hands resting on his shoulders. They shook slightly under her fingertips. "They called you the Key."

"These are the ones. They gave me a soul." He whispered, and Buffy realized he was still holding the limp hand of the third man. He gently eased it back to his chest. "Or a key, whatever you call it." He rose stiffly, face hard, with a glimmering track shining down one cheek. "They were lookin' for me."

"They were looking for us." Buffy held her coat firmly closed. "They had something to give to me, to protect for you."

"What?" He asked hollowly.

"I don't know. I don't know what it does, or when to give it to you, or how you use it. Only that it's for you."

"I don't understand all this." Spike sighed heavily, one hand massaging his chest as he looked at the three fallen figures.

"I know. " She watched him struggling with his emotions, a puzzled and upset look on his face as something strange washed over him when he looked at the still forms. She knew that his soul must be hurting, because her own was, and they were mates, after all.

The frown deepened, the head bowed, some long forgotten mourning for lost life coming through. His voice was a husk in the silence. "He acted like he'd been lookin' after me all my life, said they guarded me for so long."

She took his hand in the darkness. "Then it's my turn now."

_To be continued... _


	14. Part XIII

**Unknown **

**By Sweetprincipale**

_This is set in my non-canon, but canon-esque series following Uncontrollable and Unmentionable. If you haven't read those first, please do, or this won't read nearly as well or make much sense. Unknown begins a few weeks after the end of Unmentionable, around the beginning of season five._

_Author's Note: Picks up immediately following the last chapter. Finally, some conversations happen! For my readers having smut withdrawal- hang in there, it'll be back. Sometimes plot has to come first. (Shocking, I know...)_

_Dedicated to: Alexiarrose, ginar369, omslagspapper, Dlillith21, Sirius120, Jackiemack916, Spiked-love, Jewel74, Touch the Dark, Sanity Fair, Arlenedemalk, Teddybear-514,The Three March Hares, CailinRua, Lil-Leti, and ShyL. Wow guys! Thank you for taking time to review. You're the reason I keep sharing my work. _

_Direct Quotes are obviously not mine, but belong to the fabulously talented and creative people who wrote them. In this case, some of season five's dialogue will be used. _

_**Disclaimer: Nothing of Buffy belongs to me, except my sincere admiration. However, this story is all mine.**_

**Part XIII**

Two figures hurried through dark alleys, sped through cemeteries, distracted, looking over their shoulders. "We need to get home, now." Buffy argued.

"We didn't hit the Bronze, haven't hit it for days."

"We have to call the police."

"What?" He yowled in surprise, slamming to a halt. "To take care of vamps at the Bronze, are you mental?"

"No, to deal with the- the bodies." She lowered her voice and got him moving again. "Then we'll hit the Bronze, and then, home. I feel like everyone in town is watching us, knowing what's-"

"Shhh! Still a secret, those three were in on the deal, this doesn't change anything." He stated determinedly, knowing her fear.

"It changes everything! Dreams are one thing, but when people from them start showing up in your town, that's all new kinds of bad, and boy do I have experience with the dream world becoming reality world. Remember? Prophecy Girl?"

"Yeah, yeah, so what? I'm not Prophecy Boy. No one needs me to do any big thing."

Buffy knew he was lying and ignored it. "Yeah. They just dropped a soul in for the hell of it, then came out of mystical enjoining spell aftermath land to see if you wanted to buy the extended warranty."

_Stupid bint. Knows me so bloody well. Doesn't help we tell each other damn near everything._ They crossed through another dark and tangled street, eyes still scanning for the undead enemies. Found one. Didn't even slow them down.

"Do you _have _to call the police?" Spike hissed, already knowing the answer. His fist latched onto the collar of a vamp concealed in the shadows, dragging him out into the light with no more effort than grabbing a leaf off a low hanging branch.

"That place looks like no one's entered it in forever and half." Buffy plowed through the vamp as if simply walking through a dust storm, her stake pierced, plunged, and was gone. "We can't leave them there, and we can't carry them through town to bury them."

"Could've." Spike huffed. "The police are gonna ask questions, it'll be in the papers, it'll-" He paused as Buffy gave him a withering look.

"In this town? It'll be hushed up, just more numbers on a morgue list and no one will ever even hear about it but us and the guys. Not even the guys, maybe." She shifted uncomfortably. She didn't like keeping secrets from her friends, her one window in a shuttered double life. Her words also made Spike flex his hands, like he was wringing invisible necks, his face a frustrated mask. "Look, they cared about you, and this might be the last thing we can do for them. Not just- leave them down there like they're not important."

"I know." Spike whispered, hands relaxing.

Buffy continued. "They had some sort of identification on them, those little papers written in Latin. Or were those spells?"

"Latin. Not much to go on. Just the name of their order. No location. Nothin'." He kicked a stone angrily as he marched ahead.

"Maybe someone was looking for them." Buffy offered quietly. "Or will be soon."

He grunted noncommittally. He felt responsible for them- a bit brassed off for sticking him with a soul when he happened to be quite happy without it, and now apparently the damn thing came with accessories... but still responsible. They came to town, for him, for them, with one more gift. He wouldn't ignore that.

"Lemme see that thing."

"No, they told me not to give it to you until it was the 'right time'. What if when I do, something huge happens? You could get sucked into it." _There better be room for two in there, because if he goes, I go._

"Don't be stupid, I'm not gonna get 'sucked into' whatever it is. 'Specially if it's meant for me, it wouldn't hurt me, would it?" He scoffed with a lot more confidence than he felt. "It's not even big enough for that, Slayer, it's a little softball sized thing- unless you've taken to padding just one side."

"Hey! I do not_ pad_." Buffy spat angrily, and rearranged her coat, eyeing her bust. She looked at him from the corner of her eye as they were pounding the pavement, walking fast as they could without breaking into a run. "Do you think I need padding?"

"No! For God's sake, that's not the point!" He cried in exasperation. "Lemme see the damn ball!"

"Wait until we get somewhere safe- and you are so not touching it, just looking. Don't tell me something small isn't powerful, Spike. They put Angel's soul in some glass paperweight orb thingy." She stumbled. _Are they gonna take his soul back? Is it like when he's done, please return here?_

Spike roughly swept his hand over her back, not a lover's touch as much as the gesture of the comrade and friend he'd come to be when they were battling. "It doesn't matter, does it? Don't need the shiny center to be there for you."

Buffy nodded resolutely. She stopped as they were entering the Bronze's locale, heading to a street side pay phone. "Shoot, no change." She ran a hand over her pockets.

"I've got some." Spike smacked the side of the phone with the flat of his hand and quarters cascaded out. "Help yourself."

"Spike!" Buffy gasped and looked over her shoulder like a child who's been caught raiding the cookie jar.

"I got a soul, I'm not a saint, an' I'm sure not a flippin' change machine." He picked up a quarter from the silver pile tumbling to the ground, and slid it in. He leaned against the box, lighting a smoke, nervous agitation just under the surface. _It's a gift. With a price and a purpose, and now something I can use when I magically know when to use it. Bollocks. Dream figures bein' real figures, and comin' to town, lookin' for us. _Both _of us. You want me, fine, you leave my girl out of it._

"I want to report three bodies found...The basement of the old ironworks warehouse." Buffy mumbled into the phone. "Where? Um..." She tugged Spike's coat.

"Rear facin' lot off Sinclair." He spoke over her shoulder, and hung up the phone as the police dispatcher began to ask more questions. "That'll give 'em enough to go on." He tugged her away, on their mission, then paused outside the Bronze. "Maybe you oughta stay out here. You don't know what you're carryin'."

"Okay... But don't take too long?" She requested nervously, hugging herself. "I'm kinda wigged."

He nodded tersely and pressed a kiss to her forehead before skulking silently into the crowded club, mind going a million miles a minute.

His eyes slitted, nostrils quivered. So much blood and lust and sweat. He had the immediate distraction of wanting his Slayer, and all the aforementioned fluids from her. "Where's the bad apple in the barrel tonight?" He muttered, scanning the crowds of writhing bodies. "Always somewhere to hide in this place..."

* * *

Buffy kept her eyes peeled and paced the perimeter of the club and a few adjoining alleyways. Her mind kept up a steady patter of self-placations and then questions. _He's right. Guh. Hate that sometimes. But he is, I don't know what I'm carrying. I don't know what they want him to do with it. Oh, man. If they tell me to protect him, and give me this thing... He unlocks things, he locks things, what's up with that? What the hell is "a key" when it's not all cryptic? _

She turned as she saw Spike leading out a tall, beautiful brunette from the back, loud music spilling out after them.

"I'm starving. Hey- I thought you said you had a girl waiting for us out here!" A petulant voice exclaimed, and shrugged off his hands.

"I do. There she is. Meet the Slayer."

"Hi." Buffy waved, and her irrepressible spirit made a saucy grin come to her lips as she stepped closer. "Spike, I'm shocked. Asking another woman to dinner? How could you?"

"Ah Baby," Spike flicked his silver lighter open suddenly, catching it on the hem of the short sparkling dress the other vampire wore, ignoring her incredulous, panicked look, "she's nothin' to me." With a scream, and a flare, he was standing in ash.

"You don't have to get so grabby with the hot girl vamps." Buffy pouted at him teasingly.

"I'm sorry, weren't you the one doing the whole 'come hither eyes' to Dracula?"

"Yeah, right when I said 'My boyfriend's behind you'. Jealous much?"

"Insanely." He pulled her to his chest, and let her hands slip up the supple leather across his shoulders, mouth doing the same across cold lips. After a much needed moment of calm in a rapidly spiraling evening, Buffy pulled back for air. "Little Elvira was the only vamp in there." Spike said once freed. "Let's go."

She nodded breathlessly, and struggled for enough air to talk. "Stay- with me- tonight?"

"Your mum's gonna have a-"

"Extra guest for breakfast? She'll deal." Buffy panted, and fit her hand into his as they began to head towards her neighborhood.

* * *

Upstairs, slipping in as the red numbers on her alarm changed to 2:00, Buffy and Spike carefully unwrapped the ball from the coat's interior. "Bloody hell..." That annoying little thrum in his chest kicked back on, and he stretched a hand towards it.

"Hands off, buster." Buffy scooped it back up, and looked anxiously for a place to hide it. "They told me to protect you and this, and I'm listening to them. Sort of a deathbed request." She cradled it nervously.

"Wonder what happens if you don't protect it? Not like if it breaks, I break, right?" Spike laughed, hiding the concern under a half jest.

Buffy's eyes widened, and she sat it down on the center of the mattress, then surrounded it with pillows, afraid it would roll off or crack or something.

"You don't need to make it a nest, Luv. It survived on the floor of that warehouse, and even the rats were shyin' away from that place."

"We have to find out what it does."

"I've never even heard of it, Luv, an' I used to do a fair bit of readin' up on old curiosities." Spike leaned on the dresser, watching her agonize over the little sphere.

"Ever hear of the Key, or Dagon?"

"Can't say I have."

They exchanged a look. "Giles knows everything. Pretty much."

"We'll ask him tomorrow, well, technically later today."

Buffy nodded."Right, it's late. He needs his sleep." She slowly let down her hair, and slid off her boots. Spike took off his duster and boots as well, enjoying the sight of Buffy going through her little nightly ritual. "Weird..."

"What?"

"They guarded you all your life?"

"Think he must've meant the new innards, Pet. Never saw them before the dream."

"So if the thing in you is something we're supposed to hide, and I'm supposed to protect, and it opens many things, and locks many things, and now there's this super secret glow ball to go with it..."

"Yeah?"

"Don't you think someone is probably... um... after you? Or whatever's inside you?" _We keep hinting at it, when are we gonna face it?_

"Not like they can come in and cut it outta my chest." He laughed softly.

_Suddenly not sounding funny._

Desperate people, people who want something that's been guarded, and hidden, and transformed so it would fit in a vampire's body, and then be given into the protection of the most powerful woman on earth... People like that probably wouldn't hesitate to try anything, _anything_ at _all_, to get their hands on it.

Grim expressions suddenly took over their faces. "S'pose they might." He shrugged carelessly. "But I'm not afraid of them. We can take on anyone, you an' me." Her eyes were pitifully scared and he sighed, "With a bit of help, of course."

"Thank you!" She hated to do this, and was scared to and way relieved to all at once. Buffy tore from the room, across the hall and down a bit to the guest room. "Giiiles!" She called, and looked expectantly at the door.

The door at the end of the hallway opened. Joyce's door. The sleep mussed Watcher stuck his head through. "What in heaven's name is it?"

* * *

Buffy gaped and opened her mouth silently a few times, and looked helplessly at Spike for a second before hissing. "Get out here, right now!"

Giles frowned and cinched his robe shut before emerging, shutting the door softly behind him. "Now see here, Buffy, I am a grown man, and your mother and I-"

"Ew! Not that! Although- ew!"

"Oh, pardon me, I didn't realize skim milk complexions and neon hair were so attractive!"

"Oi!" Spike looked highly offended.

"Not that, not - geez, Giles, not_ that_!" Buffy ran to him, and tugged him forward. "I thought you were in the guest room, I was a little weirded out, okay?"

"Well, hm. I was, but then I went to check on your mother and I- I fell asleep after- ah." He blushed and trailed off.

"Oh God." Buffy blushed as well and shook her head.

"Way-hay, Rupes." Spike winked and Giles glared.

"Can we please not do the locker room shtick now?" Buffy dragged them both into her room, and just as hastily forced them back out. "No, no, not in here, we'll wake her up."

"If she slept through you shoutin' and our snarkin', Luv, she's not gonna-"

Joyce's voice suddenly and effectively silenced Spike. "Buffy? Rupert? Is everything okay?"

"Everything's fine, Mom!" Buffy called. "I just needed Giles - to help me with something, in the basement!"

"What? The basement?" The groggy woman sounded more alert now.

"Yeah, I uh- I need help with the laundry. I got demon guts on my new jeans, Mom! Watchers always know if you should use, um, baking soda or essence of newt... or something. Go back to sleep!" Buffy pushed both of men ahead of her down the stairs, turning and racing back to get the monks' gift.

"She really must work on her cover stories." Giles mumbled despairingly.

"What the hell was that?" Spike commiserated, shuffling after him. "I need a little red pick me up. You deal with Little Miss Covert Ops. What the hell'd you teach her about stealth in four soddin' years?" Spike rummaged in the fridge for one of the blood bags usually tucked away in the fridge.

"Oh piss off or teach her yourself, you sneaky git..." Giles opened the basement door as Spike tossed the bag into the microwave. "You're the one who's marrying her." He muttered exhaustedly and stumbled down the stairs, still grousing. Spike, who'd only caught part of the phrase, stared after him in shock.

Buffy entered, ball held carefully in both hands. She paused at the image of Spike, head cocked and deeply confused looking, staring at no one. "Get your drink and let's go. Giles is probably falling back asleep down there."

"What'd you say happens to him if he doesn't gets over tired?" Spike jarred himself to action, grabbing a mug and pouring his late night feeding into it.

"Oh no. He's man bitchy?" She bit her lip.

"I'd say he's man PMSin' but Red an' Anya told me that's an offensive and hormonally inaccurate term." Spike cautiously followed after her. "So yeah, man bitchy. On steroids."

"I am not!" Giles snapped, overhearing them. "I'm merely sleep deprived and I- what in the world have you got in your hands?" Tiredness was instantly replaced.

"I think it's called a Dagon." Buffy clutched it back to her chest as he motioned for it. "I don't know if you can touch it, I'm supposed to protect it."

"Protect it from what?"

"I don't know."

"Where'd you find it?"

"In a really nasty warehouse basement."

"Why in the- never mind that. How do you know you're supposed to protect it?" Giles squinted down as Buffy held it out for him to examine. Spike stood to the side, head swiveling, watching the verbal tennis match.

"He told me I had to!"

He straightened up, keen hazel eyes suddenly at their keenest. "Who told you?"

"Sit down, Rupert. I'd offer to get you a whiskey, but you're gonna wanna wait 'til the end." Spike pushed him into a dusty camp chair stored in the basement, and leaned against the washer.

"Spike, you can't-"

"Can't, can't can't! No one tells us what the fuck to do, Slayer, or we'd never have been together! Shoulds and shouldn'ts die in this town." He reminded her fiercely. "We need to play straight or we're flyin' blind!" Spike growled warningly.

Buffy was never intimidated by him, least of all when in the face of a threat to a secret meant to protect someone she loved. "You can't just blurt stuff out!"

"He's got the previews of this little movie, Luv, maybe he already knows."

Giles swiped the air between the two of them as they faced off, like a ref breaking up an illegal contact. "Sit down both of you and be honest, tell me whatever it is you think you can't. We don't always play by the rules, Buffy, you of all people should know that. I don't know everything about the future, Spike, as I've said. But I do know I was given carte blanche, as it were, to help my Slayer, help all of us, live a better life. I had certain doubts erased, certain ideas reinforced." He kept his statement broad, and ignored the little voice in his head that warned him there was always a second, unpleasant option lurking.

"Do you know that Spike is- different, than he was before the dream?" Buffy finally whispered.

"Yes. He's had a change of heart. That's why you two fell in love."

_Fell in love._ _Yeah. Never lose sight of that._ Spike pulled Buffy under his arm, and they sat facing the graying man, propped on the edge of the washer. Their focal point was the sphere resting gently in her hands. "So you know nothin' else matters to us? What we have or what we don't, it was _us_, changin' _for _us that did it?"

"Love is very powerful. It can certainly change a person."

"We both changed. We want each other how we are." Buffy put the Dagon behind her, and locked her fingers with Spike's.

"I'm not sure I understand what this has to do with the object you found." Giles finally said after several seconds of silence.

"Well, Librarian, I hope you feel like doin' a bit of writin' because I have something to put in your dream storybook."

The lined brow lined further. "Do tell."

"That key whatsis I kinda vaguely referred to in my portion of our little nightmare? The one I dance around, and then always let the boy leap in on, let him explain how it means I'm the key to the Slayer's pretty little heart?"

"Yes..." Giles' suspicion was evident. "What about it?"

"There's more to it, first off. Apparently it's not only symbolic. It's real. Or real enough, to put inside me."

"Pardon?"

"We're not sure. But um..." Buffy's nails broke Spike's skin as she dug in, waiting for the jaws of dreamland, or Sineya, or _something_, to open up and take him away as she made their confession. "We think he has a soul. And they call it the Key."

"A soul?" Giles repeated slowly. "A _soul_."

"Four letters, starts with S, ends with her worryin' all night." Spike snarked, easing Buffy's fingers out of his hand before they broke bone.

"You don't act like you've been ensouled." Giles shook his head.

"Well, I wouldn't, would I? Told me to hide it. Told us both that it was given to me, by these monks, because it was pure hidden in impurity. I'm not gonna act different just 'cause someone messed up my metaphysical bits and bobs."

"No, no, it can't be. When a vampire reclaims his mortal soul, he feels the pain and remorse for what he's done and he atones, he's guilt ridden."

"Stuff that, I was a _vampire_. Evil. Not gonna be able to undo it all, an' not my bloody fault I bit people, I was hungry an' that's how you eat. Some thing's I'd do different, yeah, but I'd been regrettin' 'em before anyone popped the shiny in me."

"Oh, honestly, you massacred men, women, and children, the descriptions of your tortures are- not suitable bedtime reading, let's say that."

Spike didn't preen, as he would've in the past. "It's a blood rush, violence, pain, power. It's part of bein' demon. I'm_ still _demon."

Buffy swallowed, hearing him speak so calmly, but not contritely about his past. "That's old news, let's focus." She said in a voice that trembled slightly.

"It's not _my_ soul." Spike pounded his chest once, looking desperately into Giles' less than pleased eyes. "It's _new_. It was made new. Pure. For a new man. Cleansed by love." He looked to Buffy and back. "It doesn't matter what I did, it matters what I do now, because it's not some old piece of me. It's somethin' new." _She makes me new in so many ways, and somehow I still stay true to myself. That's what real love oughta be like._

"Such magic is not possible." Giles whispered.

"You said all sorts of things weren't possible." Buffy reached for him with her voice, pleading for him to keep an open mind. "The human part of Spike's aura, the- the enjoining spell and him balancing us, you didn't think it was possible. Instead, it turned out to be old magic, magic you didn't know about yet, but we learned! We used it."

"Buffy, I know I wasn't aware of things that were merely 'old magic', but there's _no_ magic I've ever heard of that can make, can _create_ a new soul."

"You said love was powerful enough to change things." She insisted. "What if it's not," she struggled for an explanation, "what if it's not _made_? Like made out of nothing, what if it was already something else?"

"Yeah, what if it's this "Key", but the monks _shaped _it into a soul?" Spike tossed out. "Seems likely, or else wouldn't the just call it 'the soul', not 'the key'?"

Buffy picked up the thread hopefully, their conversation a seamless back and forth, mirroring partnership they'd built in the other areas of their lives. "Yeah, what about that? Can love, and magic, transform something that much?"

Giles blinked. Eyelids open- young couple, young warriors, desperate faces, sitting hand in hand, journey just beginning. Eyelids closed- older couple, sitting arm in arm, two children climbing in between them, faces full of love that he didn't know existed, something you only see in a parent's face... _How'd those children come to be? How'd those faces change from hard and raw to soft and glowing with inner light? I don't know of any magic that would create such a reality, but love seems to have done the trick_

"I suppose anything is possible." Giles spoke quietly. "I should know that."

"You didn't already know? I mean, isn't this a violation of the hiding the 'Key' rule?" Buffy looked to Spike and Giles and back.

"I didn't know about this, Buffy. But I knew something had changed. Maybe that protects the secret, or maybe by keeping something secret, it merely means not to let it be seen." He smiled wryly. "Spike, you're doing an excellent job. You act like a thuggish, brutish layabout when it suits you."

"Aww, Watcher, you do notice." He winked. Then sobered. "It _is_ a soul. I've said it prolly was, but tonight I _know_." He looked at his toes, dangling down, not wanting to look into eyes right now, preferring to see other eyes, dying but suddenly alight. "I felt it before, too, but it wasn't the time to talk about me. When I heard Joyce was sick, an' death suddenly stopped bein' meaningless. And then tonight, I felt for jus' a minute like I met an old friend... and he died holdin' my hand." His dark brows met, cheeks hollowed as he chewed on unspoken words. "You don't get that deep down pain inside, not unless it hurts you _personally_, not when you're a vamp, and some not even then. I was always the odd duck 'cause I could feel for others."

"Never forgot how to love." Buffy supported him.

"No, never did. But this is a different kind of pain. It doesn't come from loving someone, like I loved Dru, like I love Slayer. It's not even a bloody conscience, knowin' that somethin' is wrong. I always knew that, just ignored it." He laughed ruefully. "This makes you feel like somethin' is sick in the world, and you're sorry for it, even if it's not your fault, nothing you can do about it."

His eyes remained downcast. "Wicca chick said I still had my human half. Least I could call it up when I needed to. I think now it just stays up the whole time. Half human, half demon, all vampire. Don't know how to explain it." Spike trailed off.

Buffy helped. "I do. We're the same. Half and half, and need to be whole."

Whole they would be. "Tell me everything." Giles reached out and took her hand, paused for a moment, and touched Spike's wrist briefly as well. "It'll be alright. You can tell me. I know you worry about it for some reason, I'm sure it'll come out in the telling." He smiled as the two faces lifted slightly. "But I think it's safe that you confide in me, if no one else. I already knew, I suppose, in a way." Buffy's lips began to form a protest and he soothed her. "I never put a name to it, Dear, I merely saw," he tapped his temple, "the change and didn't know what caused it."

She shook her head, determined that he had to understand. "It doesn't have to be the soul that changes a person, Giles! Spike and I were in love before that, before the dream, before we went in to fight Adam!"

"I believe you, Buffy. The point is, I knew there was a change and something inside Spike. If you give it a name and a form, it merely adds to what I already knew." She finally nodded, and Spike patted her back. "Very well then. Begin."

* * *

"An' that's the end. It was the same blokes, I looked at all of 'em. Outta my head and onto the floor."

"Dead?"

"Dead and dying." Spike wrinkled his nose. "But they didn't smell right. Not quite human, and not quite dead or alive. Weird."

"Indeed. I'm afraid there are many things we will never know about what happened in the dream realms, or tonight. However, we know one thing. That sphere, the Dagon- oh dear, I wonder what language that's from?" he interrupted himself and then moved on, "-has to be kept hidden and safe until the right time, and we must find out what it does."

"And where the hell do I come in? What do I lock or open, an' how come I'm a Key? _Key_, that sounds nice an' threatenin'." He said snidely. "Why not the_ Blade_? Or the-"

"What, _Spike_ wasn't already threatening enough?" Buffy rolled her eyes, and rubbed her tired eyes. "I so need some sleep. I have to take notes in American History or I fall asleep in _there_, and the professor is really not a fan of that." She stretched and jumped to the floor. "Research round glowy thing. Got it. But-" she looked suddenly panicked, "Giles, we can't tell the guys. Not about Spike, anyway."

"Can't see 'em bein' too thrilled once they find my fangs are back in order." He sneered, imagining the outcry.

"I'm not overly thrilled about that myself, but I know it must be necessary." _There's human evil in this world. I should know. _The eyes dulled and his hands flexed in a spasm. _Who knows what a man is driven to do, to protect?_

"I wouldn't have hurt you lot anyway. Not unless you were really beggin' for it." Spike chuckled.

"How completely unreassuring." Giles clambered out of the lawn chair, which collapsed as he was halfway out of it. "Nonetheless," he tried to preserve his dignity as he shook the plastic striped seat off his ankle, "I agree about keeping this a secret, for the time being, until we know more about who wants you, or what you're concealing." He said gravely. "Keeping this between the three of us is wisest, not because we can't trust the group, or because I believe Spike would suddenly be punished for revealing the information," he held up a quieting hand in Buffy's direction, "but because we don't know where the threat comes from."

"I don't think it's one of the guys!" Buffy exclaimed indignantly.

"He means because we don't know what the danger is, and if we don't even know, how are we going to protect them?"

"A valid point, but I was thinking more along the lines of the dream's rather vague descriptions about hiding the object in the most unlikely place. It must be hidden from your _enemies_, from the_ one looking for it_. That is my take on it, combining all the information we've heard. Therefore, the fewer people who know the location, the less vulnerabilities we have, the less risk of secrets being overheard, fewer slips of the tongue."

"If people are going to sneak into your head and leave weird messages, they should include a phone number where they can be contacted for questions." Buffy groaned. "Watcher-Slayer training this week is going to be all about this Dagon stuff, right?"

"Yes, and any mystical references we find mentioning a Key, or the ability to create or bestow a soul, or monks. Did you happen to see any identifying symbols or designs on their clothing, their-"

"Oh, the name of the order was on a piece of cloth in one's robe. It was in Latin." Giles waited. "You're kidding, right?"

"Sorry, I'd forgotten." He said with a faint note of tired sarcasm. "Spike, what was it?"

"Fraternitatem Custodes."

"The Brotherhood of Guardians."

"Guarding me, or at least my new clockworks." Spike concluded dryly.

"I'll see what I can find about their order. I don't have access to the Council's resources any longer,unfortunately, but I'll see if I can approach any old friends about the issue- discreetly, Buffy, I haven't lived this long without some sense of self-preservation." He forestalled her yet again. "Alright. I suggest we talk more tomorrow evening, yes?" Nods all around.

He made his way up the stairs first, and then paused in the kitchen when Buffy grabbed his arm. "What is it?"

Speaking urgently, drawing him away from Spike who went to rinse mug in the sink, she asked, "I'm getting better at telling when you're not telling me stuff." Her voice dropped to a hissing whisper, "Do you know what's happening, or not? Please, just tell me, I can take it."

But he shook his head. "A lifetime in a moment, Buffy, that's what I saw. Sometimes certain parts stand out, sometimes parts blur. I can honestly say I see images, but don't know of their significance, or exactly what I'm seeing." A look of pain and uncertainty washed over her face, and his hand cupped her chin to redirect it, eyes fusing. "I know you fight. I don't know what, I don't know everything, I only know - there is something that will hunt you, or hunt him. You're both so connected, I can't tell your life from his anymore."

"That's beautiful. In a scary way." Buffy whispered letting her head rest on his comforting hand.

"Life is always scary, and you cannot always be brave." He smiled, "But you face your hunter. You fight. And you win." He sealed his lips as Spike rejoined them. "Well, it _is_ late."

"Uh, yeah." Spike put his hands in his pockets, suddenly ill at ease. "I'll get my gear an' go on out." He gave Buffy a sideways glance. They'd planned to stay together tonight, but that was before they involved the Watcher. He could always slip back through her window after a decent amount of time had passed.

"Um. Yes. Right, I'll get your stuff and bring it down." Buffy smiled at him gratefully with sadness underneath. She knew he was planning to leave for the sake of not alienating her mother, even though it was all coming out in the open anyway, and to spare Giles the problem of choosing between supporting his slayer and arguing with his girlfriend if Joyce discovered Spike was spending the night.

"You do that." Giles turned from them abruptly. "I seem to have left my glasses in the basement."

"No you didn't, they're in your left pocket." Buffy pointed.

"Hm?" Giles patted himself, pushing the glasses farther out of sight. "No, must've left them downstairs. And I shall have to look about for them, they've probably fallen under that dratted lawn chair."

Spike tugged Buffy away, as the comprehension dawned. "G'night, Giles."

"Love you! And um- we'll be really quick about getting Spike's stuff and saying goodbye."

"Yes, yes, I'll probably need two or three minutes to scout round." He waved them on with a twinkle in his eye. "Oh dear. Joyce will probably kill me." Giles sighed softly, went into the basement, and waited patiently on the staircase, twirling his "missing" frames.

* * *

"He was being so awesome. He's like- not Giles. I mean, he _is_ Giles, but he's like 'Giles, Caring and Communicative Human Edition'." Buffy hissed as they entered her bedroom. She tucked the glowing gift in a her weapons' chest, covering it in a mound of sweaters.

"He's not just bein' your Watcher anymore, Luv, he's bein' - well, he's tryin' to be part of the family." _He's trying to be her dad, 'cause God knows she doesn't have one, 'cept in name._

"I know, but that whole 'you go on up and I'll pretend I didn't see you' thing, that's above and beyond."

"You do realize that it works two ways, right? He doesn't see me stay in, an' we don't watch him ignore the guest room and go get tucked in nice and cozy with Joyce."

Buffy fought down the reflexive negative comment. She didn't really mean them, she just was used to teasing her stuffy Watcher. Who was totally not the same person anymore. Well, he was, but he wasn't. Same, but changing. _Like us._ "Good."

"Well, well. Look who's all grown up."

"Maybe." She hugged him to herself as she turned off the light. "But you always thought I was, didn't you?"

"Knew you could handle yourself." He pulled her tightly to him. The tension was returning as they cocooned together, brave faces falling when they were alone again. "You can handle _me_, an' that's pretty bloody impressive." He managed a soft laugh.

She nodded into his shoulder, swallowing a few times before she could trust herself to much sadness and fear in just a few hours. In a few weeks. The world was crashing around them, and they just needed something to hold onto. So she held, hands digging in tightly, feeling his own bruising grip comforting her. "He said we win."

"Together?" 'Cause winning meant nothing if you lost the girl.

"So connected he can't tell your life from mine." She looked up at the lean face, darkness accentuating how bright his eyes were, how soft such hard lines could become.

He smiled down at her, the half to make him whole, partner in crime, on the battlefield, hawk to his rabbit, and rabbit to his hawk, the everything and anything he'd been looking for. _Gonna be okay, 'cause we're gonna be together. The rest I can take or leave. _ "Alright, then. That's all I need to know."

* * *

_To be continued..._


	15. Part XIV

** Unknown **

**By Sweetprincipale**

_This is set in my non-canon, but canon-esque series following Uncontrollable and Unmentionable. If you haven't read those first, please do, or this won't read nearly as well or make much sense. Unknown begins a few weeks after the end of Unmentionable, around the beginning of season five._

_Author's Note: I'm back! Welcome back to the Uncontrollable Trilogy and thank you for the patience. It may be a short chapter (and a little disjointed as I pick up different subplots once again!) to get myself worked back in and show you I've not abandoned the piece, but more will follow soon! I recommend re-reading some of the last chapters to get back into it. This chapter picks up at the end of the last one._

_Dedicated to: Alexiarrose, ginar369, omslagspapper, Dlillith21, Sirius120, Jackiemack916, Spiked-love, Jewel74, Touch the Dark, Sanity Fair, Arlenedemalk, Teddybear-514,The Three March Hares, CailinRua, Lil-Leti, ShyL, Sxyblondgrl95, kse93, MidwestJen, Bamboo Angel, tawny, SarahlovesA, Illusera, Edward Cullen Brings Sexy Back, Maire Ailbhe, moonshine15, rororogers, mmwillow13, cavemenftw, rosalea12, kerry220, mike13z50, skeezixx_

_Direct Quotes are obviously not mine, but belong to the fabulously talented and creative people who wrote them. In this case, some of season five's dialogue will be used. _

_**Disclaimer: Nothing of Buffy belongs to me, except my sincere admiration. However, this story is all mine.**_

**Part XIV**

Joyce woke to a soft scuffle of noise. "Rupert?"

"Here, Dear." He was placing a cup and saucer beside her. "Non-caffeinated. Tara says it's an herbal blend with apricot seed extract and asparagus root."

Joyce blinked painfully. "Rupert, if you want me to drink my fruits and veggies, have Buffy make me one of those smoothies she likes."

He made a noise of rueful agreement, with a touch of bewilderment. "I know, it's more like a salad than a proper cup of tea, but there you are. A-and I've brought more of Anya's muffins. And the jam. Milk. There, breakfast in bed." _Breakfast in bed, and well in this room, until I'm sure that Spike and Buffy are quite separated and out of the house. _ He arranged all these items on a tray on her nightstand.

"You're wonderful..." Joyce smiled and weakly sat up. The world swam and rocketed down to her permanently nervous stomach.

"Joyce?" Giles was quick to steady her arm.

She liked and disliked that at the same time. "I'm fine, it's just so early - it's nine! Rupert, who's opening the store?"

"Anya and Tara." He soothed. "It's my day to take you in, so I thought, well, why not stop rushing about for a moment and enjoy breakfast with my ladylove?"

"That's very kind of you, but if Buffy catches you in here-" Joyce blushed, which didn't even marginally lift the pallor in her face, "she'll 'wig'."

He chuckled at her use of Buffy's slang."Nothing in the least worrisome about me giving you breakfast." Which he noticed she was avoiding looking at, or touching. _Her stomach must be bothering her again. _The first few weeks of treatment break you in- the next few break you down, that's what he'd heard someone say. Rallies of strength mixed with sudden bursts of sickness and exhaustion, unfortunately quite unpredictable.

"I don't really think she'll mind." Joyce conceded on second thought, but she still looked apprehensive. "I just don't know how she'll take it."

"Hrm. Calmly. After a preliminary burst of hysterics." Giles mumbled under his breath, thinking of this morning's wee hour confrontation. He took a sip of tea reflexively, one of his usual "cover an awkward moment" practices. "Emm!" He instantly regretted it, barely refraining from spitting it out. "Oh heavens, that's foul. It has enormous healing properties, but..." He winced and put the cup back down with a clatter in the saucer. "Perhaps she knows of some herb we can add to make it less offensive."

Joyce smiled. "I'm not really hungry, Rupert, but thank you for thinking of me." She pushed herself to a sitting position, "I'd better get up anyway. Oh, did you see Buffy this morning?"

"I heard her moving about, yes." Giles hastily took the tray away and began to exit. "I'll wash these up and the muffin will keep -"

"Did I dream it, or did Buffy wake you up in the middle of the night?" Joyce's voice moved faster than he could.

"Yes. N-no bother."

"Oh no! Weren't you in _here_ last night? Oh, Rupert!" Joyce groaned.

"I feel asleep." He protested apologetically.

"I know she doesn't really mind, but I didn't want her to find it out so obviously. Oh my goodness, she didn't- did she-" Joyce trailed off in a stew of anxiety.

"Now, stop worrying." He said firmly, with much more easiness than he had felt a few hours ago. "She was perfectly fine with everything, and I said things were... well, not entirely innocent perhaps, but-"

"Ohh." Another moan.

"She didn't care one bit." He embellished.

"What did she want? Was there something wrong?" Joyce suddenly switched her concerns back to the pressing matter, her daughter's safety, not her own vanity.

"Oh, nothing much. Just a spot of slaying trouble." _Her undead lover has lost the chip that makes him "safe", and gained a soul which he must hide. There's a large glowing orb of uncertain origins, and three dream figures who have materialized, snuffed it, and are creating further doubts about what these dreams may mean... or can do... Oh yes. Just a spot of slaying trouble._

* * *

_Italy..._

"Ransom the returned guardians safely ho-ome. A-ah-a-men." The chorus ended it's many hour chant on a sweetly somber cadence.

"Our Holy Father, Brother Mathias, and Brother Vincenzo will be home shortly." A brown cloaked figure wiped his eyes and breathed deeply. Many figures nodded. "Their earthly forms should be concealed by the protective rites done by Brother Gregori and Brother Antony until they reach us safely." Two figures nodded in particular. "Until that time, Brother Samuel, Brother Michael, please keep watch by the altar. Watch and pray. The rest of you- the battle is surely not won. Nor will it be until after the New Year, or until She is destroyed. Go mourn, and go rest."

Figures dispersed, grimly resolute, accepting. They'd known what this mission was, and greater love of their fellow man than of themselves was required to join this order.

One figure hung back, watching the two figures shuffling and praying, around and around an unusually wide altar.

"Brother Byron?"

"We don't even know where they were... Only that they were gone."

The Guardians had many mystic rites, and many mystic ties. They knew when one of their own had been slain no matter where in the world he might be. In rare cases, those mystical properties extended to the "ransoming" chant, a method used to bring home the fallen, a method no one outside their order could detect.

"We know where. It simply doesn't matter. This earth is only the temporary home for the body. Their souls are in the forever now." He blinked back tears. "You're young, Byron. We haven't had to perform this spell in decades, but the Father hears us. He'll send home His servants."

"Won't She trace them now? Surely if they're - if they've crossed over this-"

"They've crossed over this plane a dozen times in the past months, to hide It. She won't find them. Not now. Now they're at peace." The monk, far younger than his predecessor, soon to be the new Abbot, shouldered his duties to protect the Key, and comfort his brethren. And to properly honor his life long friends, too soon removed. "Take a team of the novices and prepare three graves. We'll leave the bodies in rest from sunup to sundown once they arrive. Yes." He silenced him. "They _will_ arrive. It takes time to bring them home, but home they will come. Already I feel they're on their way..."

* * *

"They said the old warehouse." The two uniformed men cautiously went into the basement.

"Iron works, that's right. And this is it."

"The night team found nothing?"

"No, the night shift stopped responding to the call outs if they're backed up. And apparently last night they were backed up. Hah. Probably didn't want to go out. Can't blame 'em. When I worked nights, I can't tell you how many stupid prank calls I had to answer."

"This was probably kids playing pranks again. How many calls have you gotten to come for big ugly monsters, or those people reported dead who answer their own doorbells?"

"I know, I know..." Flashlights shone. They winked over something, something unseen, that might have just winked out of sight, but the darkness plays tricks on people. At least, that is what they assumed. "Stupid prank calls. Bodies. Yeah. Right."

"Or those hysterical old ladies shouting about people turning into piles of cat litter..."

"I think there's something in the air in this town." They walked a thorough circuit of the place, using gloved hands to pry open rusted shut doors and move slabs of metal across the concrete floors. "No blood. No stink. Nothing I can see. Johnson?"

"Let's get coffee." Johnson took his hat off and scratched his head. "Stupid kids. Soon the chief is gonna tell 'em to stop dispatching unless they give a name, address, and mother's maiden name. No bodies here."

* * *

"I didn't think you'd still be here." Joyce greeted Buffy as she entered the kitchen. "But I'm very glad you are."

"I'm here. Where else would I be?" Buffy answered, a bit flushed.

"Class."

"I'm going to leave in five." Buffy nodded at her mother. "Unless you want me to take you to the hospital today?"

"Giles is taking me. Spike might bring me home. Does Tara have class this afternoon? If she does, then Anya and Rupert have to be at the store. Or maybe Spike is at the store. Buffy, where's that calendar Willow made? The one with all the different color pens?" Joyce started rummaging around under a pile of insurance forms, prescription pamphlets, and bills. Then gave up. _I'm a burden. A terrible burden on all of them._

"I don't know... I can get my copy. It's in my book bag."

"It doesn't matter. Someone takes me. Someone sits with me and someone takes me home."

Buffy didn't like the downcast tone, so she hastened to grab her mother's hands and reassure her. "That's what's good about this, Mom! You have so many people who want to help. You're not alone, and that's good, as long as you have someone with you, everything is better. Not so scary." Buffy clamped her mouth shut quickly. _Project much?_

A strange, almost strained look passed between them. A guilty look. Two women worried about each other, and worried about themselves. Two women who had tasted loneliness, and not sure how well the antidote to their own particular heartache would be received. "Buffy. About last night..."

"Mom, I'm really sorry we woke you trying to get Giles. I wouldn't have asked but uh- yeah- I didn't want to ruin my jeans, and Spike, well, he's great when it comes to killing the baddies, but he sucks at cleaning. I mean, he does laundry, but all his clothes are basic black so they don't show stains, and-"

Joyce looked puzzled, and she spoke with a cocked head and furrowed brow. "What, Sweetie?"

"I'm sorry we woke you." Buffy kept it simple.

"You weren't upset Mr. Giles was in my room?"

"Huh? Oh! No. But can we not talk about that? Not that I'm not cool with it, because I'm like- freezer cool with it, but I don't want details." Buffy confessed.

Joyce allowed herself a mischievous smile. "I think Anya does."

"Mo-om!" Buffy cried, but laughed a little.

"I'm only teasing."

"Thank you for that. Okay, I'll see you tonight, and I'll stop by the gallery before I come home. Call the gallery if you want Tara or Willow to find me, and I can come straight home. Or the hospital. Spike will find me if they don't."

"I'm sure I'll manage. Have a good day, honey."

"Bye, Mom." Buffy kissed her mother's forehead and lingered a moment, then pulled away, grabbing her books.

Joyce sipped orange juice thoughtfully. _She was so understanding. I should be more understanding. Of course, Rupert isn't evil. Rupert's a wonderful man who would get up in the middle of the night to help her do laundry. I hope there isn't demon residue in there today, I need to do a load of towels and - _Something suddenly clicked. "Buffy!"

"What?" Buffy yelped and dropped a book as she put one foot out the door.

"Did you say Spike was here with you? Doing laundry? Last night, at God knows what hour?" Joyce put down her glass and stood up, eyes flashing.

Buffy had a reflexive urge to deny it. "Mom! Why would Spike be..." _Really? Deny him, that he was here with you, going through the scariest stuff in your life, or even something as simple as an after demon gunk clean up? No. I don't think so. _"Yeah, that's right, he was." Buffy answered with a sudden burst of surety.

"_Why_?" Joyce asked, far less placidly.

"I thought you knew that I cared about him." Buffy reminded her, a tiny edge in her voice. _Please don't fight. I'll be late for class. You'll be late to the hospital. Giles will start thinking he can't even run home to get an estate sale catalogue thingy without us starting big emotional crises._

"I do." Joyce tried to make herself coldly controlled, though inside her maternal instincts were flipping out about the fact that Buffy was sneaking around upstairs in the middle of the night with an older man. _A much older man. Half of a man_. _A half- demon. It's one thing when he's her friend, when he's just a sort of helpfully obnoxious. But anything more...More than just someone she cares about... _"The more I think, the worse this seems." Joyce put a hand to her head and woozily sat back down.

"Mom, he made sure I got home okay and- that my laundry was okay." _That sounds so lame. He's right. I need to work on my cover stories._

Apparently Joyce thought so as well. "Sweet as that is, don't you worry about his motives for wanting to come into the house for the sake of your _laundry_?"

"No. He wants to be with me, and help me. Because he cares about me, and I'm special to him, just like he is to me." Buffy put down her books._ Oh well. Academic success must not be in the Slayer Contract. _

"He does. I know he does. That you do." Joyce beckoned her back to the table. "I just worry that the two of you will... will misinterpret caring and being some sort of allies into- into- _confusing_ yourselves."

"You don't have to worry about that." Buffy smiled bravely. "Because we're not confused, Mom."

Joyce's already pale skin went a shade lighter. _She's going to say it._

So did Buffy's._ I'm going to tell her. I have to tell her._ Her fists curled tightly, steeling herself. "We're in love."

* * *

Silence lasted for a moment, and then broke with a ringing, horrified cry.

"Buffy! You can't go around saying-"

"But it's true!"

"Love doesn't happen overnight! A few months ago he was trying to kill you-"

"And now he's trying to help me! You _know_ that!"

"You trust people too fast!"_ Like Angel. She barely knew him, she was just sixteen. The things he did to her, to all of us... Even if Spike isn't like that-_ and somehow a nagging little part of Joyce knew he wasn't- _how can she trust someone again? Another monster in a man. _

"Maybe you let people in too slow!" Buffy blinked angrily and forced herself to take deep breaths. "Didn't you kinda hate Giles a couple months ago? When not under the influence of possessed candy?"

"Buffy! How can you say that?" _Even if it's true._ "Rupert has been the kindest, sweetest, most helpful-"

"I know! I know, Mom, and even if you don't see it, Spike treats me like Giles treats you. Okay, not so much with the classic comedies and art shows, but like a friend and a lover and all the things I want-"

"I know he's become a good friend to you- why am I saying that?" Joyce shook her head as if to clear it.

"Because it's true. 'Cause everything I say is true." Joyce looked at her skeptically. Buffy heaved a frustrated sighed. "I don't want to fight. I don't want to upset you, and I didn't even want to tell you right now."

"I'm not surprised you didn't want to tell me." Joyce made no effort to keep her temper, even though the effort of being angry was taxing her. "You've never let me in, Buffy, not since this vampire thing started."

_The truth hurts._ "Maybe because when I do, you would have thought I was crazy. Maybe you'd just get mad at me. Or treat me like I don't know what I'm doing. Or saying. That I'm- that I'm a stupid little kid, Mom." The anger died from her eyes and Buffy smiled sadly. She looked down at her shoes. "Well, Mom, I'm trying. For the record, it wasn't to keep you out, it was just to keep you safe." She mumbled.

Joyce sank back into her chair, emotions churning inside her. K_eeping me safe. Back to this sacred Slayer calling again. This Slayer thing she can't give up and I can't take from her._ "I think you're very brave, and smart."

Buffy looked startled, but grateful. Momentarily- then Joyce began to speak again.

"You're also _vulnerable._ You've just had a bad break up. Two in a row. Then there's me-"

"Mom, no!"

She waved her to silence. "Buffy, there's lots of stress right now. Spike does good things, Buffy, helpful things. But I don't know if he's a good _person. _Being."

"It really doesn't make you stop loving someone if they're bad, Mom." Buffy admitted bitterly. "If it did, I wouldn't have ever liked anyone, because frankly, everyone has a little something bad in them."

"Oh, Buffy, I'm not talking about a few unpleasant habits or having some parking tickets!" Joyce cried in frustration. "I'm talking about someone with an actual evil creature nesting inside them!"

_I'm part demon. On my Slayer's side..._ Buffy shook her head. _Where did _that _come from? Was that in the dream? Not _my _dream._

Her mother was passionately speaking, but words faded in and out as Buffy felt something stirring inside herself, her own frustration, fear, worry, and then it all faded out as well._ Everything runs together, bad, good, reality, dreams. Only one thing really stays the same. Choose love._

"You can say what you want, Mom. I don't want to argue. I don't want to... I don't want to talk about it at all right now, but," Buffy swallowed, "that's what you do when you're a Slayer, get used to doing lots of things you don't want to, lots of hard things you wish could just be simple."

"Buffy, don't you play the Slayer card about you - you 'loving' someone like him. Lots of women get caught up in a handsome face and an accent. It happens every time there's a senior trip to Paris!" Joyce hissed.

Buffy cocked her head in contemplation. "This has everything to do with me being a Slayer. Yes, he's handsome, yes, he has an accent- though to be honest Mom, sometimes it gets on my nerves, but that's not the point." She fiddled with her fingers apprehensively and pushed on, "Slayers end up alone. As in solo. No family, no friends, no boyfriends."

"You're different!"

"I know I am, because I can still can love people! I still have people to love!" Buffy exclaimed. "But it's hard to find someone who can deal with that, and someone who can love me like this! Both parts, Mom. It's like I'm in two pieces." Buffy clutched her mother's hand across the table suddenly. "He makes me feel whole."

She was so beautiful, her daughter, and speaking so earnestly. More uncomfortably, she was speaking the truth. Joyce had heard fragments of this discussion, from Buffy, from Giles, from Anya... even from herself.

"I knew this was coming." Joyce murmured, half to herself. Buffy twitched uncomfortably and shrugged.

"You were right." Buffy murmured.

Joyce tried to get her thoughts together, to be clear. "Buffy, Spike has been wonderful to you and our family. Lately. But, he isn't human, and he's not- he doesn't feel the same way humans do." Joyce explained sadly. "Things might change between you. You might still," she choked on the word, "love him someday, but he might stop being able to 'love' you." _Like the other vampire._

_No, because he literally has the mate to my soul, and the key to my heart. Man, secrets suck. Different tactic._ "And that never happens with humans, Mom? That never happens, where one person keeps loving, and the other one stops, or leaves, or finds someone else?"

Joyce almost snapped out a waspish warning not to bring up the situation between her and Hank. _Only Buffy never knew, still doesn't know, that he 'left' me, long before we divorced. Maybe Hank was never evil, but he still hurt me. He certainly acted like a monster sometimes, the things he said, the pain he caused. _

_Maybe wanting to love someone again is stronger than the fear of the pain. Oh, and my little girl is certainly strong and fearless._ Joyce bit her lip, blinked once to make the sudden pain remain below the surface. "Baby, I don't want you to get hurt, and end up alone."

"I don't want that either, Mom!" Buffy scooted around the table quickly, right to her side. "That's one reason I love Spike. I _do_." She forced herself to keep speaking, even as Joyce opened her mouth protestingly. "I don't care if you hate it. I mean, I'm super sorry, Mom, but I can't stop it. He's a good choice, because- because he's the only one in the world I can love, someone with two halves, so each half of me has a partner. A-and he knows how to love someone and not leave them! Even if they do terrible things to him, he's loyal until the end. He's never left anyone, but they always leave him." Buffy looked at the table top, staring unseeingly. "I won't leave him. He won't leave me. We won't let anyone separate us. I don't care if they hunt us down... we'll hunt them back. No one takes my love away from me... From him... not again." Her words were no longer just aimed at convincing her mother, but had become wrapped up in declarations to whatever unseen creatures might be out there, looking for him.

Joyce was moved, but also scared. What happened to the sweet, innocent ideas of love, to the puppy love, to the crushes? _She's become so serious. So hard. _

_ Like Slayers become, when they can no longer love? Some empty-eyed girl, waiting to be shattered..._

"I don't want you to be alone, Buffy. I want you to have someone to love." Joyce began, and considered how to express her still lingering doubts.

"I want that for you, too, Mom! With Giles. He makes you really happy, and I'm okay with the - with the sharing a room thing." Buffy winced slightly. "But don't test his 'stevedore' qualities too much until you're better, okay?"

Joyce was temporarily caught short, and just blushed and sipped her drink to hide it.

Her daughter continued. "Don't you think I worry about bad stuff happening to you, too? I'm the Slayer, but the big Cosmic Buttheads never included daughter responsibilities into the Chosen One package. It's supposed to be like we abandon everything and everyone. Even if we don't- we don't live too long." Buffy admitted in a whisper. "I always worried what would happen to you if something happened to-"

"Don't talk like that!" _Because now I worry about the same things. What if I die? What if the cancer grows instead of shrinks? She has a father. He'll try to make time for her. But she's nineteen. He won't be legally obligated to, and then he'll think about his other obligations first. Work and flight attendants and secretaries. _

"I just didn't want you to be alone." Buffy whispered. "Now you won't be. Neither of us will be. I don't think we get to do the happily ever after part right away, but it feels better when you love someone and they love you back. When th-they don't leave unless they ask if it's okay." Buffy tripped over her emotion-laden words.

Almost convulsively Joyce grabbed her only child, and Buffy slid into her arms with a muffled sob. "Shhh. Shh. Honey, I'm not leaving. Not for a long time."

"I know." She swallowed down the chunk of sudden tears in her throat, tried to sound positive. _Giles told me. But he told me Spike helps make things okay for us. All of us. _ The emotion was back. "I don't want Spike to leave either. No more leaving, Mom, no more leaving for anyone, please."

"That's right, Sweetie. That's right." _There's too much to worry about now. It's enough to just keep both of us alive, without worrying about facing life "alone". If he helps her, he can stay. If he hurts her- I'll kill him. _

"You don't mind?" Buffy asked sitting up straight, wiping at her eyes.

"Oh, I _mind_. But I'll deal. For now." Joyce gave her a grudging smile.

So it wasn't a heartfelt acceptance speech, it was better than "Dump him or leave this house, young, lady." "I'l take it! You're the best!"

It had been a long time since she made her daughter so happy. Joyce reveled in it for a moment, then began wondering if she wasn't just allowing her to suffer more pain later.

"Trust me." Buffy could read the doubts swarming inside her, in the way her mother's smile faded and her face set."I know I never gave you a lot of reason. I did it to keep you safe, and I know you'll never think that was the right thing for me to do, 'cause you're the mom and I'm the kid. But I'm not lying and hiding what I'm doing this time." _Not all the way. Oh man, am I lying about not lying? I'm not lying and hiding how I feel about Spike, that's gotta be a start..._ "So trust me. Please?"

Her mother opened her arms again, putting one around her shoulders reassuringly. "I do. I just hope you're right..."

* * *

That was how Giles found them a few moments later as he came rushing into the house, auction catalog in one hand, keys jangling anxiously in the other. "I'm so sorry, there were notes and research papers everywhere, but if we leave in a few minutes we should be on time for- good heavens, what's wrong?" He drew up short at the sight of Joyce and Buffy half-embracing as they sat at the table.

Joyce looked up grimly and Buffy giggled. "You can't find me hugging Mom without assuming there's something wrong?"

He cleared his throat and tried to keep the blatant anxiety off his face. "Hr-hrm. Good manners would dictate that I refute that statement, but honesty is stronger today." He put his things down and addressed them both. "Who wants to enlighten me?" _I was only gone for twenty minutes! Did Joyce find out about Spike? Or the secrets he's keeping? Or did the doctor call? _His stomach turned into a knot of ice at that last consideration.

"I told her about Spike." Buffy mentioned- then rushed to clarify, "How I feel about him."

Feeling that Giles already knew, had hinted that the two were "close", but wondering if he understood just_ how_ close, Joyce also added, "She says she loves him."

Giles raised his eyebrows. _Tread carefully. Don't betray anyone's confidence, don't lose the trust either has placed in you._ "A most unusual choice. On the surface."

"You don't think he's right for her?" Joyce seized on his ambiguous comment, even though she hated the sudden glare Buffy awarded her.

"Perhaps not what the world would call _right_." Giles winked at Buffy as he moved beside her. "But most assuredly what is _needed_. I know that he loves you. I've seen what he'll do for you." _What he will do for you, and what you in return will do for him._ "If he breaks your heart, your mother will decapitate him. Possibly with a piece of new metallic kinesthetic sculpture I hope to purchase today." He waved the glossy brochure at her. "Does he know that?"

Buffy leapt up and into his arms. "Yes! He knows. Not the sculpture part but the _shttick_ part." Buffy mimed a line across her neck. "He won't break my heart- unless he leaves, and he won't leave."

"No, no I quite agree. He's loyal to a fault. To the point of insanity." Giles released her.

She clung for a split second, hissing in his ear under the guise of one more swift kiss to his cheek. "Thanks. That was perfect." Turning back to face her mother, the exuberance left her. Joyce sat with a worried, melancholy smile, and met Giles' eyes with a less than pleased glance. "Mom, it's not like anything is going to change around here. I'll be here, Spike'll be here sometimes, too. Now you know Spike is more than a friend. That's all." Buffy said with a nervous smile.

"Go to class, Buffy. You'll be late." Joyce said softly.

"But-"

"I have to leave right now, or I'll be late too. Now, go." Joyce commanded.

"Oh. Okay." Buffy gathered her books slowly, eyes seeking some sign from her mother or her pseudo-parent that things were going to be fine.

"Have a good day. I'll see you at dinner?" Joyce forced herself to sigh and speak warmly.

"Yep. Well. Um. Bye, Mom. Bye, Giles. Good luck with everything." Buffy took her things in her arms and left the house.

Standing out side on the porch, she heaved a shaking sigh, and leaned against the wall. _I did it. I didn't do it well, and it didn't great... but it didn't end bad. I did it. At least I started to._

* * *

"Well. That was quite a revelation. Still, it was hardly a surprise, was it?" Giles said with forced brightness.

"How long have you known?" Joyce asked, not looking at him.

" 'Known' is such a strong term." He hedged.

"Rupert."

"I knew before this moment, yes." Giles admitted.

"And you're okay with it? Did you try to persuade her, to talk to him, to-"

"No." He shook his head once. "No, I didn't do anything like that."

"Are you telling me she told you and you-"

"I'm telling you I knew _before_ she ever told me. And I am happy for her." He took Joyce hands and pulled her to her feet, giving her a penetrating stare that peeled through all the layers of old fears and constant worries, right to the hurting heart. "This life is too short to live alone and unloved. Wouldn't you agree?"

By the way she suddenly kissed him, he thought she did.

* * *

"We really must dash." Giles straightened his askew glasses back on his nose and Joyce blushingly adjusted the silk scarf covering up her thinning hair.

"We can finish later." She winked and picked up her purse and keys. "There certainly is a lot left to be said."

"Not all at once, Joyce. Give them a chance. They're giving us one, that is to say, Buffy is. Aside from a few minor shudders she's been nothing but supportive."

"Wait- are you saying she knew we were-" Joyce looked mortified as he nodded. "Before?" He shrugged slightly. "For how long, exactly?"

"Does that matter?"

"Yes!"

"She's probably suspected us, as long as you suspected them." He said neatly.

"Do you really think that Spike is-"

"Oh, for heaven's sake, Joyce! Let's not do this now, you're going to be late."

"We're starting to sound like an old married couple." Joyce nodded and agreed, hurriedly sliding past him.

_Give us time._ The graying librarian smiled quietly as he shut the door behind them.

* * *

_To be continued..._


	16. Part XV

** Unknown **

**By Sweetprincipale**

_This is set in my non-canon, but canon-esque series following Uncontrollable and Unmentionable. If you haven't read those first, please do, or this won't read nearly as well or make much sense. Unknown begins a few weeks after the end of Unmentionable, around the beginning of season five._

_Author's Note: This chapter picks up at the end of the last one. Mildly smutty Spuffy moment. Not as in depth as usual- but we'll get there._

_Dedicated to: Alexiarrose, ginar369, omslagspapper, Dlillith21, Sirius120, Annamonk, Jewel74, ShyL, kse93, Jhiz, Alottalove, cavemenftw, rosalea12, and skeezixx. _

_Well, I've lost some readers and reviewers in my long absence, but I do hope you'll be back soon to continue this journey._

_Direct Quotes are obviously not mine, but belong to the fabulously talented and creative people who wrote them. In this case, some of season five's dialogue will be used. _

_**Disclaimer: Nothing of Buffy belongs to me, except my sincere admiration. However, this story is all mine.**_

**Part XV**

There was a whirlwind in the hollowed out cavern under the city. It was blonde, breathless, and arrived on his bed with a scattering of textbooks and hysteria.

"I told her. Sort of! Kind of. I was honest, just not all the way honest! I left class early, I said I had stomach cramps, which I totally do, 'cause I think I'm gonna barf- oh my God, I'm so glad you put in a toilet, love you, bye!"

Spike opened his eyes in time to see her flee the bedroom. _She does everything fast. Slay, talk... go loony._ "What was that, Slayer?"

"Ohhhh, man... Do we have soda? I need soda." Buffy staggered out and collapsed back on the bed, a wan smile on her face. "Totally have extra sympathy for Mom. She feels like she's gonna barf all the time. Poor Mom. I made it worse. Which reminds me- maybe you better not pick her up from the hospital today. Let Anya do it."

Spike sat up slowly, shirtless and sleep mussed. Buffy tilted her head and rolled her eyes up to look at him. "I've only been gone a few hours. What'd you do?" He asked, fingers tangling in her hair as he stroked it back.

"I ran into Mom."

"She's alright?"

"Health wise, she's the same. Although her blood pressure might not be." Buffy brought her hand up to clasp his.

"Little golden ball's okay, too?"

"It's hibernating in a nest of fluffy sweaters and crosses." Buffy had considered carrying it around with her- but that would be seriously awkward to have roll out of your book bag.

"You told your mum somethin'? Is that what you came in here jibberin'?" Spike cursed his comfort around her. Normally the presence of a human stumbling down into his sanctum would have him up and alert before they hit bottom. Not here. She could sneak right up behind him. _Damn the fast little thing._

Buffy made a miserable sounding squeak and sat up, facing him, scooting practically into his lap. "You know I do this thing where I'm all brave and calm in the face of a situation and then afterward I - well, usually I'm okay, then too. But sometimes afterwards I have one of those 'I can't believe I lived through that' freak outs?"

"Lately we just sort of turn 'freaky' on each other, Luv." Spike's lips curled suggestively, although his eyes remained serious. He dipped his head and let it bump hers. His cool hands traced up her arms, slowly to the center of her chest, calming her, and then exciting her as his palm pressed between her breasts. "Heart's racin'..."

_All his fault. _"Mmhmm." Buffy gasped a little as the hand disappeared under her shirt.

"Had a scare, have you?" He was anticipating and dreading this. There were only a few things he could think of that Buffy would tell her mother and earn this is reaction- and all of them involved him.

"I saw Mom this morning." Buffy told it in small chunks. "I was hoping she'd forget about our early morning party crashing, but she didn't. She was fine with it- until she realized you were there."

"Well, what sort of boy wouldn't see you home after discoverin' a corpse-filled warehouse?" He tried to joke and earned himself a poke on the wrist.

"I couldn't tell her that. I said you just made sure I got home okay- and that my laundry was taken care of. Apparently that part was too lame, even for my mother- my mother, who never wondered why instead of lying down and bleeding after she hit you on the _head_, with an _ax_, you got up, shouted at us, and stumbled away. That wasn't suspicious, but a friend can't worry if my new jeans are dirty, no,_ that's_ sneaky."

"You're runnin off your tracks, Luv."

"Right. Laundry. You being interested in my laundry means bad, suspicious, above the call of friendship things."

"Well... I did think that cover story was weak, Slayer." His adrenaline level- or the vampiric equivalent- were rising rapidly.

"I'll take cover story refresher courses." Buffy groused. "Mom thought you must have impure motives. And I said no, you didn't. You and I have very pure motives. Friendship."

"Never thought that'd happen, but yeah." He kissed her lightly. "Joyce knows that. You told her you cared for me."

"I reminded her." Buffy looked into his eyes, and felt her heart hammer inside her chest, as if trying to reach the surface, feel his reassuring fingers for itself. "She was worried we would confuse caring and being friends with something more... so I told her we weren't confused. We're just in love."

The blue eyes widened and then blinked three times in rapid succession. "You-" The angular jaw was left open.

"Yep. Exactly like that." Buffy smiled slightly at his surprised expression- and then mirrored it with a little gasp as the room spun and she was on her back, under him on the plush, pillowy quilt.

"You told her." He rained kisses on her, urgent, happy kisses.

"I wish she'd had this kind of- no wait. I don't. Still, a hug would've been nice." Buffy arched into his lips as they raced over her throat.

"Was she angry?"

"Uh-huh." A gasp as teeth entered the arena.

"She kick you out? You gonna move in here?" _That'd be okay. You belong here. Not in a place like this, but here with me, in a place we make together. With your lover, your mate, your other half..._

"No. No kicking." _I would love to be here. Although I'd like less dead neighbors._

"I'll talk to her, if it'll help. Sometimes I think she almost likes me."

"She does! But me loving you wasn't supposed to be part of it." Buffy put her hands on his shoulders and let them sink down as the kisses slowed down, but certainly didn't lose intensity.

He didn't want to ask. He didn't have to, really, he knew the answer to his question. If she'd backed down, she would have come apologizing to him, not frantically babbling to him. So he made it a statement. "You wouldn't budge. Bet she didn't like that."

"_So_ did not like that. But we talked. And there was bonding. Crying. Mutual stubbornness. We have a temporary pass. An uneasy truce- ooh." His hand had wormed down under her waistband. "Spike!"

"I think you deserve a reward, is that so bad?" He asked, quirking one brow, playfulness still masking how deeply this touched him, how worried he still was.

"It's wonderful." She melted against him with a weary sigh. "I was actually scared today. I don't know how I did it." She closed her eyes painfully. "Sorry, I know that sounds bad. If you just knew how it feels to have let your mom down so many times-"

A flash of such a sweet, maternal face, hidden in ridges of demon- Spike shuddered. "Your mum means the world to you, an' she's not well. You'd do anything to make her better. Ease her pain, her worry." _Glad she's smarter than I was about it._ His own eyes shut to hide a century of guilt and things he couldn't undo.

"I think I might've failed on the easing part." Buffy groaned and rolled onto her side, finding her partner with his catlike reflexes already facing her as she adjusted herself, found herself still locked in his arms.

Now wasn't the time to tell her how much worse a person could screw things up. Now was the time to tell her it could get better, as long as they stayed together. "Then I'll help you. But I know you, Slayer. You never do a bad job. Whatever you had to do or say, I know you did it the best you could. And your best is the world's best, Buffy. You're the best in the world."

So much faith in her. So much love in him. Her voice came out in a tense rasp, "I couldn't keep it a secret anymore. I love you. "

"I know you do. Love you."

Kisses and pawing turned to sliding against each other on a background of books, clothes, half-questions, and fevered little explanations.

"Did you call the -?" He panted out and stopped short, unable to continue. He wasn't breathless, he couldn't literally be, but the act of sinking into her always left his mind reeling and gasping. Hot wet rush.

"I didn't call the store yet, but I will. I think Anya would go get Mom in five minutes flat, no notice. She'd just throw people out of the door and tell them to bring their money in tomorrow." He laughed at her breathless ramble and she spasmed around him. "Oh, my notebooks!" Her spasm had sent them toppling off the edge of their unmade bed.

"Screw the notebooks." He bit softly and hungrily on her shoulder and she dug her fingers desperately into her skin. _So warm._

"No. Me." She giggled half heartedly and clung to him tightly. She sighed and marveled how the world could spin too fast sometimes, but in his arms everything went at a perfect pace, frantic or languid, as long as he was there. "Love you."

"I know, Baby. I know it." He never stopped being pleased, maybe a bit awed, to hear it.

A roll and a push and she groaned as he buried himself in her again. "Spike-"

"Shhh." He pushed himself up over her, holding himself in until they couldn't connect any further, and felt her hips automatically react, moving under him, beginning that rhythmic cycle they were so good at it. "You let your mind stop workin' so hard. Body's turn."

She sat up, using his chest for leverage, eyes glazed and post-orgasmic. "So much better than my spirituality class."

He chuckled and sprawled, looking up at her with a debauched grin. "Saw nirvana didn't you, Pet?"

"Cocky." She chided.

"Yeah, he did his bit." Spike twitched his flagging member so it bounced between her thighs.

"Spike!" She swatted his gleaming shoulder.

"Ah, still callin' my name." He let his hand cup her breast, then lingeringly slide up to caress her face. The worry was slowly going to come back into her eyes. Dru had never really looked at him with concern in her eyes. So much was a game to her.

He hated the creeping sadness, he wanted to make it vanish forever, and yet he appreciated the love that prompted her to worry so. "So happy." _Selfishly happy. _He knew he should be more sober, the world was a worrisome place for them right now, and always would be._ They gave me a soul, not a sainthood._

Buffy let out a single, strained laugh. "How can you be happy right now?"

"I still have you. All I ever wanted was to the get girl." Hs hand tightened against her cheek._ To keep her. Tell me you won't leave. _ _Tell me..._

"You've got me. You might have to have me here permanently if- I mean- when mom gets her strength back and her anti-vamp boyfriend ideas back with it." She sighed deeply. "She said she minded- but she wasn't ballistic by the end. I didn't tell her. About the soul." Her hands caressed a light circle over his heart, dripping down the white ridges of muscle making up his chest.

Spike arched his dark brow. "Is that so?"

"Of course I didn't! It's a secret! Are you crazy?" Buffy shook her head in stupification. "I just had - like- a nervous breakdown, telling _Giles_! Giles, King of the Lack of Facial Expressions, He Who Has Read It All. I'm not going to tell my_ mother_!"

"Easy, Slayer, I-"

"In fact, souled guys are really far down on my list right now. Angel, Parker, Riley- guh. Souls don't make 'em stick around. Not that I am looking for a _not _souled guy either! And my mom thinks souled vampire equals psycho stalker, just add sex." She rolled off of him and onto her knees beside him on the rumpled sheets. "Souls don't matter right now, not to Mom, and not to love, and not to me either. I just want you."

_How does she do that? Take away all the noise and boil it down to one simple little thing. Smarter than they give her credit for. _Spike grabbed her back down and growled in a mixture of lust, gratefulness, and plain happiness, a crooked smile coming to his pale lips. "I just want you, too, Slayer. Have you love me- no matter what the little voices tell you. What other people say about us. That it's bad or it's not enough... Not mine to have..." He didn't want Dru back anymore. But he still remembered the pain of loving her, wanting her, and not being wanted back.

She knew that feeling all too well. When they've left you because something told them to go, they wouldn't listen to you explain, wouldn't give you a chance- even while you were begging them to stay... Buffy smiled tremulously as she whispered, "All my little voices sound like you- with the snarky accent. Or maybe sometimes the little voices are a big mashed up mess of everyone else freaking out- but no matter who's talking- everything says to stay with you."

* * *

_Nightfall in Africa..._

"Ohhhh." A ragged and most un-godlike moan broke through the sounds of buzzing insects and crackling fires. "Damn. These transitions are getting worse, aren't they? Tell me he's suffering. Is the little bone bag suffering?" Glory panted and clawed her way up from the damp earth as she inquired. "And why am I not in my nice makeshift suite?" She gestured moodily to the tent made out of all her expensive odds and ends of fabric.

"Your brother refuses to enter it, Your Magnificence." Jinx scraped and bowed as he assisted her.

"Idiot."

"One does not like to criticize the chosen vessel."

"Go for it, Jinxy. He's killing me." Glory grunted angrily.

He wasn't the only one speeding up her demise. Though she wouldn't die while in control of the form, she would wither. Without humans to feed on, she grew weaker. Ben, on the other hand, seemed just fine, eating whatever vegetation he deemed safe and catching fish miles away, walking in the daylight, evading them in the brightness and the heavy greenery. Sometimes Jinx was sure he smelled other humans on him, probably those in passing river craft. Probably giving them free medical advice and having long discussions about malaria and the needs of the community. The boy was so determined to help these pitiful humans- probably to dull the pain of knowing one day he would have to admit he could have saved them all.

_Thank heavens we chose carefully._

"You cannot die, Majesty, such nonsense. You're immortal."

"If we can open the Door, I'm immortal." Glory collapsed on her pile of dresses and sighed. "Right now I'm an immortal wannabe."

Jinx was shocked. "You've never spoken like that. You'll feel better if you eat someone. There is a party out hunting your food now, but in the meantime, please, use my unworthy -"

"For the last time, I can't mind suck a demon. Demon brains make me sick. They don't have life force, it's like eating those damn rice cakes. Full of air." Glory gave him a bitter snarl, and then aimlessly looked around until a petulant pout formed on her lips. "We're still here. _Why_?"

"I- that is, the mages and priests, we- that is, _they_-"

"Spit it out, Jinx."

"We know the monks took the Key with them somehow and used the Cave of Souls as a pathway. But we can't find ANY surges of activity in the scrying map. No new flares. None. It's as if they went to another realm."

"They can't do that, they're humans. They have to come back out onto a human realm. Don't they?" Glory struggled to sit up. "Gimme a refresher course, I never studied humans on this stupid little mud hill. Except that they feel and they whine and smell and I can't wait to get out of this body! They can't jump from dimension to dimension, right? Not for long?"

Jinx gave a helpless shrug. "The Key was brought _into _this dimension, but with a great effort, Most Patient One."

"Don't talk to me about ripping the timeless, shapeless, _powerful_ things out of the cosmos and trapping them in stupid little boxes." Glory ran her nails over her skin with a look of loathing. "I know all about that. Being trapped..."

"Yes. Yes, My Queen, exactly. Trapped." Jinx eagerly elaborated. "The priests and mages who've studied the Key, and studied how to bring you into this temporary form until you ascend, they think these monks may cross planes on this dimension, but to switch into some other- some other realm _completely_ would be terribly risky. I don't think the Key could be trusted to remain in their control if it was taken into a whole other world."

"So... they're here. They're eventually going to show up in the little flickery fire map. They can't hide in that cave inside a cave forever. They have to come out sometime."

"Of course." Her loyal servant placated. "Unless..."

"Unless what? Can we speed this up a little bit?"

"The only other thing we can think of is that they died."

"Died?" Glory sat up straight and looked pleased for a minute. "Now that's the kind of headline news I like! Why aren't we celebrating?" Jinx's face remained apologetically grave. "_Why aren't we celebrating_?" Glory demanded more forcefully.

"Your Most Vengeful and Fashionable One, the monks have the Key... and we're looking for the monks, because we do not know how to search for the Key if they've given it a name- a name which we do not know, transformed it into something we cannot guess..."

"And?" Glory's eyes narrowed dangerously.

"If they're dead- we don't have anything to guide our search. We would wander aimlessly again, from place to place, invading purity after purity." _Finding nothing. Until her time runs out._

"Are you telling me to give up?"

"Never! We will find a way, we are your most devoted, and highest-"

"Oh, save it." Her skin sack disappointed her, letting her suddenly collapse once more. A slow grin of basest evil creased her weary face. "You tell them not to give up on searching for those sneaky little Key snatchers. Hell knows I've tried to kill 'em a dozen times and they survived. Little rats."

"We will, Majesty. There are ways. We simply might have to begin afresh, but- there are ways."

"Good. In the meantime- if they put it some place pure, well..." she rolled over lazily as the sounds of struggles came from outside her tent, heralding the arrival of her long hunted down dinner, "let's wipe those places off the face of this miserable little planet."

"I will tell them your plan, Mighty Glorificus."

* * *

_Sunnydale_

"Anya. Hi." Joyce teetered and steadied herself with one hand on the recovery area door and one hand hastily to her headscarf. "I thought you had the store today."

"I did. I thought you were supposed to be done awhile ago."

"Oh... I was. Platelet count isn't too hot." Joyce smiled wanly. "They made me lie down for an extra hour and then do vitals again." _My blood pressure was off the charts. I couldn't say my daughter announced she's in love with the undead. Again._ "I told them I didn't have a good start to the morning. Nothing to be concerned about."

_But you're my only grown up friend. And sort of like a mom._ "But you're my only grown up friend. And sort of like a mom. So I'm concerned. I told them to tell you I was out here. I told them multiple times. They didn't like that. I would have come in to act sympathetic yet cheerful. I could hold your hand. I've seen them do that in movies. You hold sick people's hands."

Joyce was forced to laugh. "They told me my ride was here. They didn't say who it was or I would have had you keep me company." Joyce allowed the oddly blunt girl to help her to the car, leaning on her slightly.

"It was Spike's turn, but Buffy called and asked if I wanted to do it instead, which, even as much as I enjoy money, I enjoy being helpful more." Anya smiled brightly, then gave Joyce a slightly confused look. "Didn't you want Spike to come in and sit with you? Was it sunny in there?"

"No. No, they keep it dim when we're resting." Joyce's mouth tightened.

"He would have sat with you. He doesn't like very many people, but he likes you. And me. And Buffy."

Joyce laughed bitterly, surprising them both. "Oh, I know. I _know_ he likes Buffy."

Anya was torn between her immediate thoughts and trying to filter them. That didn't work well for her. "I think it's a good thing. Please don't be mad at me. I know you're not supposed to say things that make people mad, but you're not supposed to bullshit your friends either."

Joyce wobbled on the last step leading to the lobby, this time in surprise more than weakness. "I would never be mad at you. Honesty is painfully refreshing around here."

Anya beamed. Then frowned. "So why don't you like him today? You liked him all summer. Also, he has crazy good sales techniques. If he'd just wear a beret you could retire when you're fifty."

Joyce hesitated, trying not to become distracted by Anya's sudden tangents. _Buffy told me. It might be a secret. She not might have told her friends yet. Oh, who am I kidding? I'm always the last to know. _"I still like him. I- hm. There are things I don't like about him. Right now more than others." She muttered, sinking gratefully into the car.

"Is it the demon thing? Not all demons are bad."

"But vampires?"

"Oh, well, _vampires_."

"Why does she fall in love with vampires?" Joyce sighed to herself, laying her head back on the headrest.

Anya blinked. "Oh." Then it clicked. "Ohhh."

"You don't have to pretend. I'm sure you already knew."

"I wasn't going to pretend. I'm incapable of pretending. Unless it's sexual. Then I can be a nurse or a helpless damsel- which reminds me, Joyce, if you do end up buying some wigs, do you think I could borrow them for a couple-" Anya stopped as Joyce shook slightly in her seat. "Oh God. I've caused you emotional distress. That's what Xander is always telling me! Or used to tell me. I'm too blunt. But now he likes me as I am. Blunt but beautiful."

Joyce wasn't shaking from anger or upset, but a burst of laughter that threatened to bubble over at the sheer oddity of this conversation. "Yes, blunt and beautiful, and very sweet. And no to the wigs." Joyce was chuckling softly. "I can see why he likes you. You make the world seem a little less complicated."

Anya glowed and drove slowly through the parking lot. "Home? Or the store?"

"The doctor told me to rest today."

The girl drove in silence for a few more seconds before correcting her new friend cautiously. "Buffy doesn't fall in love with vampires."

"What?" Joyce's closed eyes popped open.

"She hates vampires. She slays them. Hundreds of them are dust because of her."

Joyce listened. "Go on."

"She loves people. She loves a specific _person_, not a whole species. Most Slayers don't love anyone by this point. Five years into a job of being alone and killing evil beasts and almost getting ripped apart all the time? Who feels warm and fuzzy after _that_?"

"But-"

"Buffy's an unusual Slayer. Spike is an unusual vampire. They could love each other." Anya said with the nonchalance of someone who clearly sees the obvious.

"The key word is vampire. Buffy's a force for good, he's a force for evil!"

"He's Spike. He'll be on whoever's side he wants." Anya looked at her from the corner of her eye. "Don't- don't you think maybe someone bad could change for love?"

"I think so. If it was a person. If it wasn't someone who'd had centuries of maiming and killing and- I can't think about this. I'll be sick."

"That might be the treatments." Anya pointed out and then subsided as Joyce glared. "Or not."

"A century of killing and he suddenly wants to be 'good' because my daughter is a sweet, beautiful girl he feels something for?"

Anya's fingers tightened on the wheel. "A century is baby stuff compared to a millennium."

Joyce rubbed her forehead. "That's true. I suppose I should be grateful he's not quite as old as the last one. Oh, god, _another_ one, Anya, another vampire!"

Anya chewed her lips for several long moments. "Xander loves me."

Joyce, confused, answered reflexively. "I know that."

"I changed."

"You're a human, Anya, I'm not saying people can't change, I'm saying-"

"I _was_ a demon. A bad one. Not a good one. I met good ones, but we didn't really hang out."

Joyce had heard the references. Demon Gal. Thousand years. Newly human. She knew it, Anya had told her about it. She just tuned her out, preferred not to think of anything but the version of the girl she now knew and enjoyed._ I really need to stop doing that._ "You're human now. You're not a demon at all anymore."

"I know... and I'm glad. But if I was still a demon, and I had someone I loved like Xander, I would- I would be as good as I could be. I'd be what he needed. 'Cause I need him, too."

"I'm sure you would, Anya, but when the demon is still in control-"

"Spike is in control of himself. And he's half human. Vampires can give into the demon completely, or they can make it sort of balanced. It's easier to give into the demon side, so most do. But if they have something precious... If they need to, if they want to remember the human world, and be human in a way, I've seen a few who can do it." _Well, I've seen _Spike _do it. But Joyce probably doesn't like exceptions to rules when it comes to vampires. Not after Angel._

"That's comforting." Joyce mumbled, but didn't mean it.

Another pause. "Slayers probably find it easier to give into the slaying lifestyle instead of trying to make the normal world and the freaky world merge. Slaying means there's no one you need to bother with. You're the strongest and fastest and you don't have to answer to anyone but your Watcher, who also doesn't have the most typical interactions with the world. You kill, you fight, you eat, you sleep. Just a constant rush and the thrill of survival. Until it's not survival anymore because none of them live too long."

Joyce knew the girl was right. Which made her want to hear it less. "I'm too tired for this, Anya."

"I know. I'm sorry. Probably I should politely not speak about it. I know that's what everyone else would do, 'cause you're not feeling well, and it's none of my business, and they don't usually involve you until they have to."

"But you're not like that." Joyce preempted her.

"Nope. You know why they're in love? Because they're good at fighting and loving- and it's hard to do both. Most people are one or the other, a lover or a fighter, and these two freaks try and have it both ways. You know what else?"

"No, what else?" Joyce said with an edge in her voice.

"He's not going to stop loving her. He'll never leave her. He won't pick someone else and leave her wondering what was so wrong with her that he couldn't stick around." Anya blinked as sudden bad remembrances made her eyes fill.

Joyce blinked as well. "Xander's a good man."

"So is Giles. So is Spike." Anya sniffed in. "Damn empathy."

"Spike may act good, but he is _not_ 'good'!"

"He's good for her, and good to her. What else do you want?"

_A whole host of things._ "I'd like her to have a normal life! A nine to five job where she won't get anything more serious than a paper cut, things she can't have, but it doesn't stop me from wanting them for her and it doesn't stop me from realizing there are things she'll never have with Spike."

"She's the Slayer. She's never going to have them without Spike, either." Anya turned onto Revello, feeling somewhat lost. _ Maybe I need to work on my brain-to-mouth filtering after all._ "Her life sucks. You'd think people would just be happy someone loved her, all screwed up and split in half inside. You'd think someone would just be happy she had found someone just stubborn and screwed up and split in half as she was. Do you know how long it to find someone like that, even if you're 'normal'?"

Joyce saw Giles' determinedly devoted face, felt the sensation of his hand clasping around hers. "About forty years."

"Over a thousand."

"If your life is going to be short... maybe it should only take twenty." Joyce's eyes closed one more time and she let them stay groaned out a sigh of frustration and woe, "Ohh, Anya. Being a mother isn't easy."

"Being a daughter has rough spots, too."

"I can't blindly support this. I said I'd 'deal', that I'd try, but I just don't know. What you say when your child is right there, miserable and hurting in front of you is one thing. You say what your heart tells you to say. Then you lie down for a few hours with nothing to do but think... " She sighed again. "I don't know. I just don't know what to make of it, no matter what anyone says, no matter how anyone acts."

Anya parked in the driveway and shrugged. "As a member of both the 'bad-guys-gone-good team' and the 'screwed-up-and-formerly-brokenhearted team', I'd say that what you told Buffy is all they need for now. You're trying. You're doing okay. Honest."

"I can always count on you for the truth." Joyce smiled faintly, looking unusually fragile in the bright light streaming through the car's window.

Anya's heart tensed a little bit, felt an extra stab of worry and pain._ It's been a long, lonely thousand years. I can't see life alone again. None of us can_. "All any of us want is a chance."

* * *

"If you just give me a chance, you'll see. I'm not - I'm _n-not_. W-wait f-for two m-more weeks and you'll see that c-coming of age doesn't m-mean anything." Tara practiced her speech for the fifth time, but the stammering was no better. She was supposed to be getting dinner at the sandwich shop near the gallery, but she was too worried and too jumpy to eat. She took a deep breath and tried again, leaning her head against the pay phone outside the restaurant, eyes tight shut as she concentrated on just getting the words out. "D-dad. It's me. If you just give me a chance, you'll see. I'm not w-what y-you're afraid of. I'm n-not bad."

A dark room. A sudden sharp pain and struggles that knocked her flat on her back as she heard laughter, and a harsh whisper. "You deserve it. Bad seed. He told me what you are."

Tara backed out of the booth without ever having touched the phone. _He'll never listen. He made up his mind a long time ago. _

_ He thinks I'm evil. He won't give me a chance. He never did before. It doesn't matter what I show him. He'll never believe me anyway._

She turned and hurried back to the store, trying to push her trembling lips into a small smile, trying not to show the gnawing fear that was growing every day.

_He'll be here soon. _

_ He's not right about me. I _know_ he's not right. _

She pushed open the door and it jangled slightly, earning her warm smiles from her eager girlfriend, nods from Spike and Giles, a distracted wave from Buffy who was looking worriedly over a textbook balanced on the register. Her new little family- sort of. Her shoulders unslumped and the brave smile became less contrived.

"How's my girl?" Willow leaned against her, bright green eyes sparkling just at the sight of her.

Tara let their fingers twine as she murmured, "I'm fine. As long as I'm yours."

Willow's eyes narrowed quickly, worry creasing her perfect porcelain face. "Always mine. No matter what. Is something wrong?"

"No." Tara clung a little tighter. "Not now."

* * *

_To be continued... _


	17. Part XVI

** Unknown **

**By Sweetprincipale**

_This is set in my non-canon, but canon-esque series following Uncontrollable and Unmentionable. If you haven't read those first, please do, or this won't read nearly as well or make much sense. Unknown begins a few weeks after the end of Unmentionable, around the beginning of season five._

_Author's Note: This was a very difficult chapter to write. There is some subject matter that had to be handled delicately, which I did to the best of my ability. I ask you to bear with me. Also, slight smut warning._

_Dedicated to: Alexiarrose, ginar369, omslagspapper, Dlillith21, Sirius120, Jackiemack916, Jewel74, Illusera, cavemenftw, rosalea12, kerry220, jhiz, Alottalove, mike13z50, skeezixx, and Juggling. Thank you, my dears! You are my inspirations, I couldn't do this without you!_

_Direct Quotes are obviously not mine, but belong to the fabulously talented and creative people who wrote them. In this case, some of season five's dialogue will be used. _

_**Disclaimer: Nothing of Buffy belongs to me, except my sincere admiration. However, this story is all mine.**_

**Part XVI **

"Mom, you don't have to come. It's um- it's just Slayer-stuff." Buffy tried to prevent Joyce from putting on her sweater.

"All you seem to do is Slayer stuff, Sweetie. Besides, if I have to lay on this couch and watch soaps for one more hour- I'll pull out the rest of my hair." Joyce tried to joke.

"A cancer joke? See, that's proof you need more rest."

"Or that I'm dealing with it like a good little soldier." Joyce teetered from weariness but shouldered her bag with a smile. "Like someone else I know." She forced herself to smile at Buffy playfully. Forced herself not to confront or question her about the thing both of them were avoiding discussing outright. Once in two days was painful enough.

"I can have all the guys come here if you want a non-television night. You can watch the real drama that is Scooby research. Will Xander tear a page? Does Giles really have some secret Watcher power that enables him to carry five hundred pounds of books in one trip?" Buffy joked back eagerly, with much the same purpose of avoidance in mind.

"Well, that settles it. All the books are there. I can't ask Giles to bring his entire library over here, and it's the first time he's had a night at his own house in a week." Joyce marched out the door, and winced at lowering sun, hand to her eyes.

"Mom?"

"I'm fine, the - the pain is just always a little sharper the day after treatment." Joyce continued.

"Well," Buffy scurried after her, still attempting to sway her, "if you're in pain now, you really wanna stay home! Um, research sessions, long, headache-y, boring... dusty." Her mother stared at her with arched eyebrows and suspicious look. "Paper cuts?" Buffy tapered off lamely.

"I'm going. I won't get in the way of your precious research, I'm just going to help make a nice meal for everyone. I've barely cooked since I started treatment, and I know all of you are living on cafeteria and take out food. I might be a little tired but I can still make one dinner."

"I know you can, Mom." Buffy didn't think it would be kind to remind her mom that they'd_ all _been living like that for the last year- it was called college. And Xander- well she was pretty sure Xander had lived like that throughout his entire life, or ever since Mrs. Harris found out about the joys of afternoon martinis.

"I want to see Rupert. And all of you at once. It'll be my way of thanking everyone for all their help."

"You don't have to thank us! We love you, of course we'd help!" Buffy joined her mother in the car and watched nervously as she squinted while driving, her light sensitive eyes shutting halfway in pain.

"It's still something I want to do." Joyce insisted firmly.

"Promise me you won't tire yourself out? I know you wanted to come back to the gallery tomorrow."

"I've been away from it too much." Joyce sighed. "I'll just come for the afternoon until closing tomorrow. And if I'm tired I'll nap upstairs."

_Mom sleeping in Giles' bed. While we're downstairs. Wince. No, no wincing, don't think thoughts like- oh crap, too late._ Buffy plastered a fake, tight smile on her face and said, "That'll be good."_ If she doesn't worry about what I do with my boyfriend, I won't worry about what she does with hers. Or at least I won't mention it. _

Joyce gave her daughter a sideways glance. She and Rupert had never- well, not in his place. And they weren't going to start now, with a room full of teenagers- _former_ teenagers, downstairs. _He has that open plan loft. Darn it. _She flushed. _I'm too tired to do anything tonight anyway. Making dinner for half a dozen people will probably make me sleep for eight hours._ The strong single parent and business woman in her felt a flash of particularly vicious hate for her disease. She cursed what was weakening her and exhausting her, and she cursed the fact that she had to let it show. She didn't have to let it show so visibly, though. Poor Joyce, she made dinner and now she has to lay down. Joyce is napping by seven thirty.

"On second thought, Buffy, after dinner I think I'll drive home. Have an early night, so I can actually be _useful_ tomorrow afternoon."

"Okay, Mom. I mean, I don't think anyone would care if you took a nap upstairs. Nope. I wouldn't. No problem." Buffy reassured with an overdose of guilt-ridden support.

"You can stop, Sweetie." Joyce chuckled.

"Stop what?"

"You know."

Buffy shook herself internally. _Grow. _Up_. Oh, and be grateful your Mom has a cool guy like Giles who seriously would take that hard lumpy couch all night just so she could sleep peacefully, and would probably wake her up with scones and tea in bed in the morning_. "Mom, seriously. As long as you're happy."

_I'd be happier without the gnawing pain and always feeling like I need to sit down._ "I think I'd be happy cooking and eating with you, and then curling up in my robe and falling asleep to Cary Grant and Audrey Hepburn on my own couch." Joyce smiled.

Buffy was relieved. Her mom and slay-related research should not combine. They would be researching things from the dream, things her mom could probably handle. Still, Spike, Giles, and herself would also be looking for clues to those monks, the Order of Guardians, and Dagons, and Keys, and souls as everyone else was plowing through books. Things they needed to keep hidden. Still- research. Not something her mom needed to know or worry about. "Sounds good, Mom."

"You can get a ride home from one of your friends, can't you?" Joyce asked with reflexive maternal instinct.

"Sure, Spike will bring me home after patrol." Buffy replied, equally automatically.

Both of them thought back to yesterday's conversation. _Spike. Bringing Buffy home. Late at night. Because they're friends. No. Because they're in love. _"Oh. Will Spike be there tonight?" Joyce asked nonchalantly as possible.

"Mhm. When it gets darker." Buffy's voice was somewhat strained.

"I haven't seen him in a few days."

"Yeah, well... schedules and -stuff." Buffy dug her fingers into her knee as Joyce turned far too sharply into Giles' parking area.

"I see." Joyce parked and turned off the motor.

"Mom, I-"

"Grab the groceries out of the trunk for me, Sweetie? I need to get those potatoes peeled right away. I hope Rupert remembered to get out the big stock pot. Rupert?" Joyce was walking rapidly up the steps to his flat.

Buffy sighed and lifted brown bags out of the backseat. _So much for avoiding the boyfriend topic. This is going to be a _really_ fun family dinner._

* * *

"Tara?"

Tara dropped her peacock feather earring with a gasp as the familiar voice suddenly crashed through the shut door of her dorm room. "Dad?" Tara opened the door with suddenly sweating palms.

"Hello. I'm glad I caught you in." Her father strode into the room, pressing back on her like a tidal wave, making her hastily back away. "The door wasn't locked. Anyone could've come in here. This isn't the country, young lady, you need to exercise some precautions, or you could get hurt."

"I-uh-I was just h-heading out t-to -" Tara stuttered, backing away further.

"I don't suppose it matters much in your case. But after tomorrow, it will. _You_ could hurt someone."

Tara blinked, startled. "I...?"

Her father ignored her and looked appraisingly around the room. His dull eyes sparked with sudden disgust as he saw the cache of magical supplies and objects Willow and Tara had set up in their "witchy corner". "You don't even hide it. Like all the women on your mother's side..."

"Th-those are just candles, Daddy, candles and crystals, and I would _n-never_ hurt someone with them." Tara moved with a swish of her long skirt, sweeping up all of their carefully organized materials in one arm and dumping them onto one of their hand loomed casting rugs, bundling everything up and stuffing it in her old wooden trunk.

"Well. At least you're packing. Although I don't want you to bring those- those _things_ with you. Bringing you home means keeping you safe and keeping others safe. You can't bring your demon nonsense with you."

"I'm n-not a demon, I'm- I'm just good with healing people. Reading people. Mom was -"

"Don't you bring your mother into this! Her demon blood killed her! And those damn rocks and toys-" he rolled a crystal angrily across her bureau, "made it worse. You're not going to end up the same way, Tara."

"I only-"

"I wasn't done speaking. Is that how you show respect to your father?"

"No, Sir. Sorry, Sir." Tara felt overwhelmed, trapped and spinning in the wind at the same time. Panic was beginning to rise in her.

"I'd hoped maybe you'd gotten over the whole 'witchcraft thing'. That if we let you go, you'd ... get it out of your system. It'd stop feeding the evil inside you."

_I'm not evil! I'm not! _

_ But there_ is_ something inside me._

Tara's father put his hands in his pockets and sighed. "I had hoped you'd be ready to leave by the time I arrived."

"L-leave?"

"You did get my letters?"

"I did, b-but-"

"I know your birthday isn't for another two days, but we needed to pick you up before then, of course."

"We?"

"Donny and Beth came. I was hoping if you wouldn't listen to me, you'd listen to them." He knew full well that was unnecessary. They were there for guilt, to prevent her from making a scene. Tara was to docile to make much of a fuss, but the insurance wouldn't hurt.

"Why? What are they going to say?" _That you already haven't? That you haven't hammered into me since Mom got sick? That you haven't reminded me of every day since she died, that you haven't written to me about hinting, scaring, making me afraid of my own shadow? I'm not afraid of myself anymore._

_ I wish I could stop being afraid of you._

"They shouldn't have to say anything. We shouldn't have had to come down here, we shouldn't have had to drag you back home, make you act responsibly. You're turning twenty! You _know_ what that means."

Yes, she knew what he _said_ it meant. She didn't think it was true. _No. More than think._ Never had been sure it was true, now she knew it wasn't. Only she had never been able to go against her father. She had tried to tell him things before, but he never listened.

Visibly upset, close to tears, Tara's pale skin was turning pink as she tried to word it so that he would hear her. "I don't think my birthday- I don't think it's ... it- it won't mean that-"

He became impatient, as he always had. "You still speak in tongues, don't you? You had a hard time speaking ever since you were a child. Your brother had no trouble. I knew the demons were already choking you." He said it in a manner of despairing conceit. Almost as if he was satisfied.

Almost as if he was twisting everything she said.

_He always takes the darker view. Not like he doesn't believe me- like he _wants_ to make me wrong. _Tara's eyes narrowed suspiciously and her quivering lips stilled.

Her father saw it and his voice became even more sorrowfully grave. "I see it in you, Tara. That look you give me... what's poisoning your mind?"

Tara shook her head suddenly, and she was ashamed. It wasn't as though magic was something totally pure. It could be, or it could be pure evil. People were ignorant. People were mislead and unkind. She had always tried to be better than that, kind, patient, gentle.

"Nothing, Dad. I just don't think anything will happen this week. Wh-when I have my birthday. Nothing evil. I p-promise."

Mr. Maclay shook his head. "Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe it'll be next year. The year after. All I have to go on is what your mother told me. When she was twenty-"

Tara shook her head. She had heard this story before- from both parents. "Grandma taught her the old ways, she was just t-teaching her!"

"No! Your mother got her 'powers' at twenty because that foul demon spawn started to hatch inside her!"

"M-mom always had powers!" Tara's shaking fingers curled into fists.

"And where do you think those powers come from?" He slammed his hand down hard on the dresser, make up and jewelry rattling and crashing. A black blur streaked out from under it and scrambled under the bed.

"Miss Kitty!" Tara gasped and began to kneel.

"Oh, no. Even a black cat? Are you_ trying _to bring yourself to damnation?"

"She's got a white tummy!" Tara stopped halfway to the floor. She had no desire to expose the trembling little cat to her father's anger any further. She slowly rose to face him.

He was done reasoning. "It's going to happen. Something is in you."

"I know." Tara whispered.

"Do your friends know?"

"Y-yes." Tara nodded slightly, trying to hide a guilty flash in her eyes. _They know I have something in me. A Channel. A way to let voices be heard. They don't know what I'm 'supposed' to be, according to you. _

"Are you lying to me?" His daughter's head drooped farther, and he took it as an admission of guilt. "Tara, you're coming home with us. You know it's the only way."

"Home?" _Home is here. Home is Willow. Home is her love._

"You can't control what's going to happen. If you _do_ have friends, you staying near them just puts them at risk. If it doesn't happen this week, if it doesn't happen this year, every day you spend close to them just puts them in line to get hurt. You'll be the one to hurt them. How do you think that'll feel?"

Tara felt her knees buckle. His verbal assault was every bit as strong as physical blows she'd received in her life, and like she had done in the past, she stopped struggling. "I w-won't hurt them."

"You have evil inside of you and it_ will _come out. And letting yourself work all this magic is only going to make it worse. I know you think it's some gift, but who do you think gives you that gift? Can you tell me you know that?"

She couldn't. "I just know it doesn't feel evil. Sir." Tara murmured softly.

"Evil never does."

He said it with quiet conviction. Absolute certainty. He was either a very good liar, or he truly believed it. Tara felt some gnawing doubt resurface.

"I was hoping we'd all go out for a family dinner, but I don't feel much like eating right now." He walked away from her, then paused. "I'll give you some time, but we need to be gone by morning of the day. Need to have you indoors and away from people by nightfall."

Tara felt her head head bob once, like something tugged it. The pain in her throat blocked any words.

Mr. Maclay paused as he grasped the doorknob and pulled it shut. "I know it's hard. But your family loves you, Tara, no matter what. These friends you've made in just a year- they don't really matter. How do you think they're going to feel when they see your true face?"

A muffled sob burst from her. He nodded knowingly. "It's for the best. You'll see."

* * *

"How nice to see you, Joyce. Looking well." Spike walked into Giles' flat, nodding at him, smiling at Buffy- and laying it on thick for Joyce.

"Spike... I hope you like roast and mashed potatoes. If I had realized you were coming I would have bought some blood while I was getting the beef."

"Oh, I have some." Giles spoke up hurriedly.

"That was the awkward small talk portion of the greeting." Xander hissed into the Watcher's ear.

"Which you've just ruined. Thank you for taking a turn, it's usually me." Anya put a bowl of steaming mashed potatoes on the coffee table.

Buffy took Spike's arm and rescued him from the middle of the entryway. "We're eating in the living room. Since Giles lacks a large enough table and the right number of chairs."

"I don't lack them... they're in storage." Giles said huffily. "I had to downsize, my larger dining set was interfering with the bookshelves."

"As in the fact that you think it's more important to have 5000 volumes on magical whatsis than a place to sit down and eat?" Xander made a grab for the serving spoon and Anya smacked his wrist.

"If you had previously worked in a library which had to be condensed into a living room, you'd make sacrifices as well!" Giles snapped.

In the midst of the bickering and place setting, Joyce slipped back into the kitchen.

"Don't pick on Giles." Buffy pouted at Xander.

"You were going to organize these books over the summer, and look at this place!"

"People kept borrowing them! This place does more business that the library during finals week... not that I'd know from personal experience."

"Speaking of people obsessed with books and academic achievement, has anyone seen Tara? Or Willow?"

Spike silently ducked out of the confusion. Playing nice with all of these people still gave him the urge to shout at them to shut up sometimes. A lot of the time actually, especially when they all decided to talk over each other, and all about nonsense.

"Came to get m' mugful." Spike smiled crookedly at Joyce and tried to unobtrusively get into the fridge.

She stepped out of his way, a small smile that didn't reach her eyes in place. "Right. Your mugful. Full of blood?" Joyce's voice was even, not cheerful, not negative.

"Right from the butcher's." Spike smiled more stiffly.

"Of course."

" Right then. I'll just pour this into a mug and into the micro, and bob's your uncle." Spike reached behind her and pulled out a chipped yellow coffee cup. "This one's mine. Old man- I mean, Giles, keeps it for me. Case I pop in peckish." Spike yanked open the bag and began to pour.

Joyce grabbed his wrist as he began to move his drink to the microwave, firmly pushing it back to the counter. "Buffy told me. You know that, don't you? She's told you, too, I hope." Joyce hissed, worried fire dancing in her eyes.

"Buffy told me what?" Spike let her push his wrist down and hold it there, mildly concerned by the sudden whispering fury, coming out of nowhere. _Or exactly where. _"Oh! That she-"

"Loves you. She told you she loves you, and she told you that I know it now?" Joyce insisted, darting a quick glance out into the living room where Willow had just arrived, minus Tara, and everyone was in full cry. No one had noticed their absence yet.

"Yes. Yes, I know that. Know you aren't thrilled, but I appreciate that you -"

Joyce closed her eyes briefly. "Yes, yes, I'm trying to be supportive and understanding. _To Buffy._"

Spike's inside's fell, his smile faded, but he tried not to show his disappointment. _Buffy's the one that matters. Joyce'll come 'round. Or not. Long as she doesn't drive Slayer round the twist._

"She loves you. How do you feel about that?" _Do you understand love, like they say you do?_

Spike answered unhesitatingly. "I know I feel like the luckiest man in the world."

Joyce let go of his wrist and clutched the counter for support. "But that's it. You're not a man. You're a-"

"Vampire. Don't deserve her love. Not a man." He said evenly.

Joyce looked at him quizzically, having expected an argument. "Yes. That's it. Not a man."

"But she treats me like one. She treats me better than that, even, 'cause I've been a man, a _human_ man in love before, an' had my heart broken. Stings long enough that even immortality doesn't wash away the pain. Not until you get somethin' truly better." Spike's head swiveled out towards the living room. "You ever had that? Where you know you don't really deserve it? Can't figure out why they pick you, but you fit, an' you know it's better than you thought it could be? Even if the rest of the world is still a mad old place?"

Joyce followed his gaze, then past it. Rupert. Better than she expected. Better than many would say she deserved. What made them click? Stubbornness, things in common, circumstances?

He knew he shouldn't prod, but he was never one to play it safe, enjoyed the trouble so much more than the calm. Really need to learn the difference between pokin' the bear an' kickin' it in the head, Spike thought, and queried her again, voice dropping, rasping as he nudged her with his words. "Ever had that feelin', Joyce?"

"Not until recently." Joyce murmured, still studying the handsome man in the next room.

"You know then. You know it's not somethin' you'd hurt or harm or muck about with."

"No, I wouldn't!"

"Nor would I!"

Joyce scowled for a split second realizing how he'd manipulated the conversation until they were compared. _With one very important contrast- I was never evil. Moody and not very open-minded, I admit that, but not evil. Unless possessed by that witch-hating demon, or bad chocolate. _

"Funny thing is... when you ask them, in there," Spike jerked his head towards Buffy and Giles, "they say they're the lucky ones. Ask 'em. His life was emptyin' out an' you've come along and filled it back up. Her life- well, she's the Slayer, she doesn't have to have anyone, that's what they say. What the all powerful ones in charge of Slayin' _should've _said was that it's hard to find anyone who's gonna stay around, who can keep up. Whitebread couldn't. Broody Boy wouldn't." Spike was no longer really speaking to Joyce, his poetic side was wrapped up in his girl, and he was just talking about her, thinking aloud about her, like he found himself doing every so often. "I'll love her like a man. I'll fight for her like a demon. And turns out that's all she really wants. Somethin' for each side."

_Damn him. Oh, and bless him, too_. Joyce made a small frustrated noise and suddenly latched onto the neckline of his black teeshirt, fist curling under his chin. "That's a beautiful sentiment, and if you mean it I'm really happy to hear that's how you feel about her."

Spike's nodded and gulped slightly, suddenly wondering if Giles would be stupid enough to leave fire axes around.

Joyce continued. "I'm still not happy about this entire situation but I won't say anything right now. I understand lot of what Buffy's going through, even though she doesn't think we're anything alike."

"Oh, I always knew you were. The iron fists in the velvet gloves, Luv." Spike muttered nervously.

Internally slightly mollified, Joyce didn't let him see it. "I just want you to remember something." She gestured with her free hand around the kitchen, around the house in general. "Anything wooden is a deadly weapon in my hands. I don't need an ax."

"Was wondering when you'd bring that up."

"A coat rack, a wooden spoon, even some of my African art or my Queen Anne pieces- I will push them straight through your heart- if you ever break hers." She looked into his eyes with dead seriousness and let him know she meant every word of it.

Spike nodded once, and felt her fingers loosen on his collar. Then he smiled broadly, that irresistible, charming smile.

"I'm not joking!" Joyce reminded him sharply.

"I know." Spike didn't stop beaming. He took her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. "If I ever break her heart, we gotta date, you, me, and somethin' wooden. But just to let you know- it's a date I'm not gonna be around to keep."

"You might be fast, but hell hath no fury like a woman with a sobbing daughter and a jerk ex-boyfriend."

"Understood. But the only reason she'd have a broken heart over me is 'cause of grief. And the only reason I'd give her grief is if I took the fall... so she didn't have to."

_He'd die for her. _

He became brisk. "But don't tell her that, alright? She an' I have a deal where neither of us leaves, an' that's what I plan on stickin' to, without mentionin' the other." He sniffed in, business concluded. "Don't plan on lettin' anything separate us."

Joyce nodded, letting go of him completely, all at once aware of her behavior. She came down to reality with a thud. "Oh, the carrots! The carrots are scorching."

"I need to get this heated up." Spike remembered the blood on the counter.

Joyce turned off the burner and poured the carrots into a bowl before they burned, and then called, "When all of you stop arguing, there's dinner in here that needs to find its way onto plates if it ever wants to be eaten!"

"I'm there!" Xander leapt over the back of the couch and took broad strides to the kitchen. "Not to be rude and all, but I vote we don't wait for Tara. I'm starving."

"And everything's hot now." Anya added.

"I'll call our room again." Willow frowned, but nodded.

"Willing hands here." Buffy came into the kitchen, and noticed who was in it. Who had been in it alone, for several minutes probably. "Uh, Mom? What can I do?"

"Take these napkins out there and tell Rupert we need something to put the roasting pan on so it doesn't leave a mark on his coffee table." Joyce said without meeting her eyes.

"Will do."

"I'll come with you, Slayer." The microwave beeped and Spike hastily grabbed his mug.

* * *

"Well?" Buffy hissed.

"If I ever hurt you, I'm a deader man." He joked in a whisper, lips brushing against her ear.

"So, same old, same old?" She tried to smile, but all that came out was mildly pained grimace.

"Nah, Slayer, it's better. She's not too bloody happy, but she's not callin' for holy water and pitchforks."

"My dating life sucks."

"That's okay. This isn't 'datin'. This is more than datin'." Spike reminded her.

Buffy felt a pleasurable shiver course through her, not undoing the knot of stress in her stomach, but loosening it. _This is more. This is serious. This is very serious, on epic levels of seriousness. _"I can't wait to get home tonight." She said suddenly, softly, just for his ears.

He knew she meant their place. He couldn't wipe the smile off his face.

* * *

"Let me carry that, my love." Giles sidestepped the open oven door and lifted out the roast. "Mm. You spoil me so."

Joyce laughed, her eyes twinkling at him. "I think you meant to say you spoil me."

"Hardly." Giles kissed the spot behind her ear that always made her -

"Rupert!" She giggled.

"Conclusive evidence." He smiled roguishly. He prepared to turn and head out of the kitchen when he noticed just how pale his paramour was. How pronounced the dark circles suddenly were under her eyes. "Joyce?"

"I'm fine." She smiled brightly.

"Oh, yes, that's convincing." He set the pan down and felt her forehead. "You've spiked a fever."

"Probably." Joyce gave a harsh laugh.

"What?"

"Spike. Buffy. This thing between them, Rupert..."

"Causes you concern, and you're letting yourself get worked up." He frowned.

"Don't treat me like a child." Joyce warned.

"I won't. May I treat you like I care about you?" He pressed, looking pointedly over the rims of his glasses with a hint of a smile.

She melted. "Yes. Yes, you may." She leaned against him, and then wonderful feeling, found arms going around her, maybe slightly hesitant arms, but arms that held her tight.

"I can't get hold of Tara, so I think she must be on her way ov- oh. I- I'm sorry." Willow turned on her heel, blushing as she'd blundered into the kitchen and the couple.

"It's alright!" Giles assured, but blushed as well as he pulled back from Joyce. "You didn't need to cook."

"But I wanted to. It's not-" she struggled for words, "it's not easy letting people take care of you all the time, after you've learned how to take care of yourself. Completely. Without anyone." _Because you couldn't count on anyone. _

"I know, Darling, but we don't consider it 'taking care of you'. Simply helping. As you help us. Now, not treating you like a child, but you are going to go sit down." He steered her from the kitchen and with a single glance cleared the couch.

"You look pale." Anya said at once.

"Shh." Willow hissed. "Joyce? Water?"

"Yes, please." Joyce gave in and nodded. "But then no one fusses. I just- feel a little tired. After dinner I'll head to bed early, and let you have your little research party."

"Hrm. As we're all assembled, let me get the main dish in here, and we'll dig in." Giles bobbed his head and turned away quickly, to hide the concern on his face, so he wouldn't have to see the secretive, worried looks everyone else was throwing around the room._ It's all part of the treatment. Part of fighting it off. That's all. That's all it is, everything will be fine._

_ Dash it, how many times do I have to say it before I believe it?_

* * *

"Tara? Are you okay?"

Willow hadn't stayed long after dinner. In fact, no one had. Giles took Joyce home. Spike and Buffy went out to the warehouse district and to Willy's, listening for, looking for something, but nothing they elaborated on. Xander and Anya had apartment related stuff to do. Tara had never shown up, and never called back. Willow worriedly entered the dorm room, flipping on the lights.

"Willow." Tara sat up from under a huddle of blankets on the bed.

"Tara! Baby, what's wrong?" Willow dropped her bag on the floor and slammed the door after her in one fluid motion, gliding over to the bed with wide, frightened eyes.

"Shhh." Tara had been lying in bed, alternately angry and crying, alternately planning to run away, just for a little while, and planning to confront them, planning to tell Willow, and planning to keep it a secret._ No one needs to know my little problems. That my father's insane and superstitious. There's so much going on right now. Joyce being sick, these dream portents, all of us juggling everything- no one needs to hear about me. _

_ I've never been very important._

With those unfortunate, self-belittling thoughts running through her head, Tara clung to Willow in a confused mass of kisses and shushing sounds. "I'm okay as long as you're here."

"I was so worried." Willow confessed, kissing her back, all over her cheeks. And her puffy eyes. "Sweetie, were you cry-"

"Nox." Tara extinguished the lights with a word. "I-I'm fine. Just need my Willow." She half-lied.

"You have me. You have me right now and forever and ever. Not going anywhere." Willow stroked back her hair, and let her fingers flow down her neck. She let them keep flowing as Tara clung to her convulsively.

"Need you."

"I'm here. Need you, too." Willow frowned momentarily, but Tara's fevered kiss wiped it from her mouth.

Tara was one born to comfort. She didn't know what it was like to need it and receive it willingly, or she had forgotten until she met Willow. She still found it difficult to say what she wanted, as she didn't quite know at this moment. She fell back on feelings her father generated in her. Guilt. Confusion. Worry.

"I'm sorry I missed dinner. I sh-should have called." She wrapped the blankets around them as Willow kicked off her shoes.

"I was just worried." Willow snuggled in, happy inside. "We all were. But you're a big girl. You can handle yourself. Just call me protective. Or a worry wart."

The light teasing words were felt much more deeply than Willow would have imagined. "I love that you're protective of me. That you worry about me." Tara ran her fingers through the scarlet hair. "Makes me feel loved. And safe."

"You are. Loved and safe." Willow's frown was returning. "Tara, did something-"

"I just want to snuggle up in your arms all night. Maybe all of tomorrow too." The blonde tried to giggle as she nestled in and interrupted.

The worrying feeling Willow had wouldn't go away, but it faded. "Snuggling hooky. Missing school to ravish my beautiful blonde goddess. I could see myself becoming a B student if this turns into a habit."

Giggling. Kissing. Touching. Soft, slender fingers under loose cotton, warm, slightly shaky hands undoing denim buttons.

"You cold, honey? Oooh, I could try that spell to-"

"Just hug me really tight instead. You're my kind of magic." Tara pressed their naked forms together. Guilt surged again. She didn't want Willow to see their magic supplies were all tossed carelessly into the trunk. She didn't want magic right now. No powers, good or bad, just love. Love is supposed to be the most powerful thing anyway. She loves me no matter what.

Willow slid her hands down and caressed the gloriously heart shaped hips and the curves, the silky soft wonderland just for her. "So beautiful. How'd I get someone so beautiful?"

"You asked nicely." Tara ran her hands over the slender pale shoulders over her. _Such a gentle, powerful woman, my Willow. She bends with me. Never forces..._

A sudden dark spiraling thought shut down the sweet reverie and Tara tensed up.

"Someone missed me." Willow murmured a singsong chant and she slid her head down to follow her hands, leaving little kisses as her lover's spine suddenly arched and the hips locked up.

"I-I did. I missed you." _Deep breath. Deep, even breaths, it's Willow... Just Willow._ The spine relaxed, the hips came down and widened, receiving the first fluttering kisses, which sent hot prickles dancing down to her toes. "Mmm."

"Mmm agreed." Willow swirled her tongue over and down, still feeling somewhat like a novice trying to impress a master craftsman. A_ delicious _master craftsman. Pure honey. Honey and some sort of sweet spice. Wicca flavored, Willow thought as she giggled under the sheets and invaded the valley further.

Darkness was lifting from Tara's mind as she felt her lover tending to her, hands were clasping, bodies twining. _This is how it should be. And no one should ever take us apart. She would love me if I was a demon. I told her, she knows what I thought, and she knows it's not true, that it doesn't matter at all to us. I'm not going to run away. I'll stand there and face them. They can't hurt me. _

And the darkness was back. They would let her be hurt. Demons are made to be hurt.

"Gentle!" Tara screeched suddenly.

Willow sat up guiltily, her slender finger withdrawn from its intended caress and now curled well away. "I- I'm sorry! I'm sorry, honey."

_Willow's apologizing to me. Even in the dark I can see the pain on her face. Please don't cry... _Guilt and sadness turned into anger.

_ Hurting me again. And now they're hurting her._

Her soft voice shook in the darkness. "I'm sorry. It's not you. You _w-were_ gentle."

"I must have- um- I must've done it wrong." Willow whispered, hesitantly stroking her sweetheart's inner thigh. Only she was always slow and soft going in, and when they worked up to a peak, when they found a rhythm, it was always so good. Sometimes it was surprisingly hard and fast. _But it never hurt before. _

"You did it just fine!" Tara sat up as well, sheet wrapped protectively over her round, full breasts, face half-hidden in her hair.

"Oh, I-I like to learn! You have more experience anyway." Willow shook her head. "Should I have - sh-should I not do it that way?"

"You should do it just like that. You're not the one who- hurts people."

Willow paused. "Hurts people?" She asked in a second.

Tara nodded.

"Tara... I know there're some things we don't talk about, but, Baby, if someone hurt you... you could tell me." _And I would kill them. I would _kill _them. _In the midst of gentle reassurance something black and hard woke up in Willow.

"No one hurt me. Today." Tara instinctively pulled her legs together tighter and pulled the blankets up to her chin.

"Right." Willow moved closer, and opened her arm. Tara leaned into her. Wrapping her up close, they slowly laid back, unspeaking. _Because no one knows what to say. Except, _"I'm sorry."

"Thank you. N-not your fault. A-and I didn't mean t-to bring it up l-like this." Tara closed her eyes and then hurriedly opened them. She didn't like the images she saw when her eyes were shut.

"You can bring up anything, anytime! I love you. I will always love you and you will always be- be perfect to me." Willow choked out, throat suddenly way too tight. _I'm not supposed to be weak. I'm not supposed to cry, she's allowed to cry. Her pain._

_ But when you love someone this much, everything that hurts them, hurts you too._

"Thank you." Tara whispered, lying still, letting herself be held, trying to let everything bad roll away, off her shoulders. But it didn't. The shoulders shook once. Shook twice. Didn't stop shaking.

"Are you cold? No, of course you're not. Oh God, should I get off? Should I leave? I can go stay with Buffy tonight or my parents, if you want to be alone." Willow began to scramble up, hands retracting, no more contact. _I'm so stupid. No touching, no sex. I know what happened to her wasn't 'sex', but it's the same parts and maybe it's the same memories and maybe... maybe I really suck at being a girlfriend._

"Don't leave!" Tara grabbed her wrist, then released it, pulling her terrified fingers back to her trembling mouth. "I mean- I mean, I don't want you to leave. Unless you don't want to be with me ." _ Or maybe ever._

"No way I want that!" Willow locked her fingers through Tara's and held on tight. "I just want to help and I don't know how. I feel... helpless, and that's bad! That's bad, because I have to be strong for you."

"You are. You're my strength. And my air. I breathe you in, an-and everything is okay again."

Willow laid her thumbs under Tara's overflowing eyes, brushing single tears back, kissing them softly away as she leaned in to breathe against her temple. "I'll make everything okay, Baby. Everything. No one hurts my girl. I promise."

* * *

They were wrapped together again, and it was slow. It was beautiful. Nothing hurt. Nothing ever felt so safe, as being in her arms and hearing her say nothing would hurt again. Showing her whatever wounds there were, whatever pains were left inside- they were not strong enough to separate the two of them.

There wasn't the sharp and consuming pleasure they'd learned to enjoy, but it didn't matter. It was long and comforting, perfect for a night like tonight.

"I love you. You know that, right?" Willow looked up at the golden girl atop of her.

"I know." Tara managed a genuine smile and rolled off with a kiss, then lay on her side. For a moment everything was blissful.

Then she recalled that the peace wouldn't last. She still had to see her father. Her brother.

Tara shivered again.

Willow chewed her lip. "I'll listen." She finally hazarded.

"Nothing to s-say."

"Okay."

Silence that had been drowsy and pleasant was now tense. Willow tried again. "D-did something happen today? Or was it just me?"

_That does it._ Tara couldn't let Willow blame herself.

"My dad is in town. My brother and one of my cousins, too. They're in town."

Willow's mind blanked. "Okay?"

"I-They- I..." Words wouldn't form. "Seeing him reminds me of what h-happened."

Willow resisted the urge to sit up and scream out questions. Instead she waited for several agonizing moments, before asking, "Who?"

"Not sure. It was d-dark." That stammer came out worse and worse the more panic stricken she became, the more she remembered, the more she retold. Tara's nails bit into her palms as her fists clenched.

Willow felt sick. Sick in her stomach and her heart and soul.

"I think it was one of Tommy's friends. That's my-"

"Your brother."

"I- I think Dad knew- after, or he guessed. I think Tommy knew before."

"What?" Willow's mind refused to wrap around this horrible concept. "How could he know before? Unless he-" Willow's words died abruptly. _Unless he let it happen. Or wanted it to happen._

"Yeah." Tara felt a wave of nausea crash over her and the room spun.

"But- but why would he? Why would they- _how_ could they?" Willow clutched the blankets, clutched her hair, hysteria beginning to well up. It wasn't supposed to be like this. It wasnt supposed to exist at all, but if something happened, it was treated as a terrible tragedy. A horrible experience that your family would offer you love and support for and get you through. Support groups and maybe you would go to counseling and the guy would be caught and if you were a witch you would fry his testicles with a convenient curse.

"He _said_ he didn't know. But um- I think h-he was lying. Or maybe he only knew after.I know he didn't think it was serious. I d-don't know for sure."

"Not serious? But the police-"

Tara shook her head. "No one saw it happen. Or heard it. I knew no one believed me... It never happened again... Um. So." Tara felt ashamed. _Should have fought back more. Should have used a spell, only I couldn't think of one, only it was so fast. Should have gone to the police. And have my dad come get me and call me a troublemaker who was 'loose' with a boy. Or a bad seed._

"So?" Willow growled.

Tara shrugged helplessly. "I should've done more. I just wanted to forget it happened, I wanted it to never happen again. I wanted to get away, go to college. Go away and never come back. It was just one more horrible thing that happened at home." The pale blonde closed her eyes, and tried to block it out.

Willow wanted to throttle herself. "Sorry. I'm sorry, Tara. You did whatever you had to. You're here and you're okay now and that's all that matters. I didn't mean to- to get angry. I'm not angry at _you_!"

"I know you're not." Tara assured.

"I just don't understand why they would act like that."

"Because I'm evil! I'm cursed! I'm part demon. My blood is full of demon blood, just like my mother's, my power is from the devil." Tara burst out, hugging her goose bump covered arms.

"What are you saying?" Willow demanded in bewilderment, green eyes wide.

"What my dad's been saying! What my brother says. All the women on my mom's family have p-power, and when my mom got sick... then when she died... I don't know. They always had problems, Mom and Dad. He didn't like things she was doing. Magic things. She tried to hide them, but he always found out and it just made him angrier."

"That doesn't excuse him for ignoring-"

"Except Donny said nothing happened. Nothing at all. But if it did- he said it was nothing I- I didn't want. Didn't ask for." Tara gave a fragmented, sorrowing smile. "Happens all the time. Women get blamed." Tara studied her hands. "I wasn't acting like myself after Mom was gone. Kind of out of control."

"There's a big difference between acting weird and suddenly making up a huge lie!"

"With no proof, and having to choose whether to listen to me or Donny- of course Dad listened to him. It's only the women who have 'demon blood', so Dad believed my brother, not me."

"That doesn't make any sense." Willow shook her head vehemently.

"I know that, Willow." Tara murmured painfully. She skipped over the attack. "Evil things happen to evil people. Demons make men do things. B-bad things. If it was even a man. Donny said maybe I'd been possessed. Or dreamed some 'devil's dream'. Demons having a taste of hell..." Tara looked through Willow, seeing someone else's face, a gaunt, hard set face that turned from hers and went back to reading the evening paper, ignoring the trembling, quavering women in front of him. She echoed his words. "If you're part demon, whatever evil happens to you- is all your own f-fault."

Rage at something so utterly ludicrous was about to make Willow's skull explode. She knew there were black spells she could easily cast that would make someone else's skull explode instead. _No matter what, or who, or how- it would never be your fault, Baby._ But Tara was still speaking.

"My mom was my age when she started to really develop her powers. Dad thinks this week- on my birthday- the demon blood is going to take over. So I have to come home."

"What?" Willow screeched "Is that why he's here? To bring you home? But- but _this_ is our home! You and me, and Miss Kitty. And Buffy and Xander and everyone! You don't want to leave. Do you?"

"No. Never."

"And- I know you're not, but, just to go along with whatever is wrong with your dad's brain, why does he want you back home if you're 'evil'?"

"Because. I'm their responsibility. They have to keep track of me, keep me there where they can 'protect' me from myself, where they can keep m-me from hurting someone else."

"You've never hurt anyone." Willow spat vehemently.

"You're right. I wouldn't. But if I stayed home- my father said I would be safe. If I had wanted to stay, maybe I could've learned to be good, or at least fight it off. Oh, not really good, because I'm still 'tainted'. But not as bad. I believed them, at first. Until - well. Bad things happened, and it was supposedly my fault. Evil attracts evil. Evil causes evil. And- I'm-I'm evil."

"Baby, no..."

"Does it matter?" Tara tilted her head with a wan twitch that might've been a smile. "It's how people treat were wrong. I couldn't wait to leave." The normally sweet, soft spoken tone turned hard. "I'll _never_ go back with them."

Fists clenched around clenched fists, gentle warriors combining strength. "You

can't leave. I need you. You're mine and I promise- I _swear_- no one ever hurts you again." Willow repeated her oath once more, and magic flickered over their joint hands.

Tara nodded, with an answering spark. "I know."

"Good."

"So why am I still so scared to tell them?"

Willow had no words, just another long embrace, hungry kisses meant to speak for her. Finally she pulled back with a sniffle. "You are so strong. So much stronger than anyone else knows."

Tara grinned tightly. "I don't like the reason for this strength, okay? I don't w-want to let people know-" The thought of telling them- of telling Buffy and Spike, or sweet Mr. Giles, or Xander- oh God. She felt a cold sweat pop on her brow. "Please d-don't say anything to them. N-not right now."

Willow noticed Tara had avoided most of the details, and she could understand it. She hastened to reassure her. "Of course not! But just so you know- we wouldn't love you any less. And all of us love you."

Tara flushed "You love me best. Best I've ever been loved."

_Funny how it only took a few months. But it's so true. _"You love me the best I've ever been loved, too."

* * *

"Hi there, former roomie and current best friend." Buffy slid her tray, bearing cereal and bananas, across from Willow and sat down. "We haven't had breakfast together in forever. I was thinking we- Oh my gosh. Willow!" Buffy put her hand on the redhead's elbow. "Are you okay? You have sad Willow face."

Willow looked up, unable to make herself smile. Her puffy eyes and taut face were a silent confirmation for her best friend.

"Oh my gosh!" Buffy repeated and leaned forward, hissing and looking around furtively. "You have 'vampire ate someone we know' face! Who is it? Where did you see it?"

"It's not that." Willow listlessly pushed her untouched bagel away.

"What is it? I haven't see you look so upset since you and Oz-" Buffy stopped abruptly and switched tracks. "_Tara_. Willow, nothing it wrong with her, is there? She didn't come over last night, but that was just 'cause she had to study, right? Please say that's right." Buffy frantically begged.

Willow looked at her with dull eyes. "Her family is in town for her birthday. They're pressuring her to go home."

"Ohh, Wills. For her birthday?"

_In a manner of speaking. _Willow swallowed and nodded.

"I know you worked so hard planning her party at the Bronze, but- we can throw it another night." Buffy said with a resolute little pout of her lips, crossing her arms. "We'll teamwork it, like everything. Scoobies unite. I can blow up a lot of balloons on short notice. Slayer lungs." Buffy patted her chest.

"Not for her party. Go home for her birthday- and not come back."

_Does not compute._ "Not come back until when?" Buffy frowned in confusion.

Willow raked her hands through her hair. "Not come back until never! Never come back."

_Usage of double negatives. Willow meltdown in three, two, one-_

"Ugh! They're such stupid, bigoted, back-watered- _gah_!" Willow slammed her fists down and bits of bagel combusted. People stared.

_We're not used to that by now_. Buffy glared back at them, and heads hastily turned the other way.

Buffy wiped cream cheese off of her hand and scooted to the chair beside Willow instead of across from her. "Hey, easy with the baked good projectiles. Wanna go for a walk? I'm not hungry."

"No. I can't move." Willow felt drained. Hours of being strong and comforting while controlling blinding rage and the urge to search for some magical solution to the problem had taken its toll.

"When did all this happen?" Buffy asked gently.

"Just yesterday. Well, they'd written to ask her to come home before, but... her dad showed up with some big ultimatum. They'll come get her and take her back with them. On her birthday. Buffy- you don't know what's it's like... when you finally find someone, then suddenly you might lose them..."

_The hell I don't._ "I _do_ know, Wills, I really do. But," Buffy rubbed Willow's shoulders, "Tara's an adult. It's not like they're going to storm in and haul her off, stuff her in a trunk and-" Willow's face gave her a despairing look, a doubtful, depressed one. "Oh. They- they would?"

Willow nodded. "Maybe."

"Holy crap."

"No kidding."

"What's going on? Why do they want her to come home enough to turn into creepy kidnapping people? Is Tara overreacting? Maybe?" _Oh, boy. Bad mistake. _Willow's eyes sparkled with a sudden tinge of shining black

"No. She. _Isn't_." Willow's tone was glacial.

"Okay, I believe you!" Buffy placated. "Willow, you need to calm down. You can't help her if you're this upset."

"I know. I _know_." Willow twisted her hands frantically and a half-sob escaped her. "Buffy, they can't take her. They can't. I love her. I can't lose her. I thought it was bad with Oz, but this... Buffy, just thinking about this hurts so much I - I feel like I can't breathe 'cause if I breathe in too hard my heart's gonna break and -"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa." Buffy pulled her friend against her as Willow seemed about to hyperventilate, trying not to absorb her words too much. But yet she knew just what she meant. Angel leaving, Riley's break up- so much sadness, so much anger, betrayal, abandonment, the whole bad emotion buffet. If Spike was suddenly, unwillingly taken? World endage. At least _her_ world. "Nothing is going to happen, Willow. Nothing Tara doesn't want to happen. I know she loves you like crazy, so she'll choose to stay right here. Tara's quiet, but we know what she's like inside." Buffy hugged her friend tighter as Willow suddenly gave a spastic twitch and a loud gulp. "She's the anchor. She's special. She's strong. Like you."

"I'm only strong 'cause of her." Willow whispered brokenly.

"Liar." Buffy smiled down on her. "You're strong whenever you have to be. I think it's a "I graduated on the Hellmouth' thing. Or maybe a Scooby thing. We do strong on demand."

Willow smiled back shakily and sat up. "I'm sorry. I was fine until- I had to talk about it."

"I am an expert on that." Buffy nodded knowingly.

The cafeteria was emptying as the breakfast rush was over and the later morning classes began. "You have class?"

Willow nodded. "I do. Tara's already at the library typing a paper, then I think she's heading over to the gallery after classes. I'll meet her there this afternoon."

"I'll be over as soon as my last class is done." Buffy volunteered. "You two can go spend some time- um- somewhere else. Not working."

"I think she'll want to stay. Take her mind off of- stuff."

"Right. Working is a good thing. Or slaying. Researching. Something." _Anything but worrying about what happens next._

Willow distractedly began gathering her things and pushing her breakfast into some sort of order. "I'll- I'll see you later?"

"Totally." Buffy got to her feet as well, putting the bananas in her bag for later, tucking her hair tentatively behind her ear.

"See you."

Buffy hesitated for a second, and then caught up to her friend. "You never told me what's actually going on. Why do they want her back so badly? What's happening?"

Willow paused at the threshold of the building, broad shafts of fall sunlight glinting off her red hair as she turned to her friend. Willow licked her lips, then gave a small, helpless smile. "It's not something I can tell."

Buffy blinked. "I just wanted to help."

"I know. But I keep her secrets, Buffy." Willow's eyebrows lifted slightly. "Just like you keep his."

_And we all try to be okay with it- until it's time to share. If it's ever time to share. Around here, it all seems to come out, slowly or all at once. We just have to roll. _"Thanks, Willow."

Willow dropped her head. "I figured you would understand. It's..." She groped for an explanation.

Buffy supplied one easily. "It's what you do, when they need you to. It's what you do when you're in love."

* * *

_To be continued..._


	18. Part XVII

** Unknown **

**By Sweetprincipale**

_This is set in my non-canon, but canon-esque series following Uncontrollable and Unmentionable. If you haven't read those first, please do, or this won't read nearly as well or make much sense. Unknown begins a few weeks after the end of Unmentionable, around the beginning of season five._

_Dedicated to: Alexiarrose, ginar369, omslagspapper, Dlillith21, Sirius120, Jackiemack916, Jewel74, Illusera, cavemenftw, rosalea12, kse93, kerry220, jhiz, Alottalove, CailinRua, skeezixx, Juggling, Pickl3lily, Annomonk. Thank you, my dears! You are my inspirations, I couldn't do this without you!_

_Direct Quotes are obviously not mine, but belong to the fabulously talented and creative people who wrote them. In this case, some of season five's dialogue will be used. _

_**Disclaimer: Nothing of Buffy belongs to me, except my sincere admiration. However, this story is all mine.**_

**Part XVII**

"How in the world are we moving through this much inventory?" Joyce sat down in the tiny back office with her ledger across her lap.

"Ah. That would be the semi-unholy trio." Xander walked into the office in time to hear her mumble. "We need more twine. Are we out of twine?"

"Wouldn't surprise me." Joyce flipped a few pages back, then ahead. "Not with as much as we've sold lately."

"I'll tell Anya to order some. We're running out of brown packing paper and-oh there it is." Xander snatched the twine off of a shelf and hustled back out.

"What's the unholy trio?" Joyce called after him, a faint frown on her face as she realized what he'd said.

Xander came back in, minus the string. "_Semi_-unholy. Tara, Spike, and Anya. The gentle, nurturing, aura-reading art expert, the vampire who can size people up and fast talk them into staying in the store, and our own little ex-demon, current capitalist who closes the three of them are pretty impressive together."

Joyce laughed, "Are you serious?"

"They don't do it when you're here, 'cause it's your gallery. But when you're not here, and all three of them get going- yeah. It's entertaining."

"Rupert's been very good about going to auctions, too."

"Curator dude. He has the eye." Xander agreed.

"You've all been very helpful." Joyce smiled and closed the ledger as the numbers and letters swam. She leaned back and closed her eyes as well. "Anya and Rupert have everything under control for now?"

"Yeah, they're good." Xander looked at her nervously. Pale. She was wearing a cream colored sweater as well. _Pale. Closed eyes. Thinner face. In white. Ring any nasty little dream bells? _Xander coughed and became brisk, yet inarticulate. "Hey, uh... Tara and Willow are coming over this afternoon, and Buffy is supposed to stop in. You look tired. Not like- not good, tired, just tired. I could take you home?"

Joyce opened one eye. "Do I look that bad? Am I going to scare off the customers?"

"No!" _Just me. _

"I have to stay. This is my gallery, and I worked too hard to build it up after we moved here." Joyce said grimly, forcing herself to her feet. "Which I suppose means I have to get back out and-"

"No, no, no." Xander gently pushed her back into her seat. "See, Anya's rockin' the register. Giles' British politeness is balancing out her rabid salesmanship. But you- _you_ are the only one who understands what all these- these_ things _are." Xander gestured to the stacks of paper and the ledgers.

Joyce looked up at him with a rueful smile. "They call them bills, invoices, and taxes."

"See? You need to be here. Sitting. Off your feet. Dealing with the big scary papers. I'll get you tea. Should I get you tea?"

"No, just go." She nudged him away with a stack of bills. "I think I can survive until closing without you being my nurse." Joyce gave him a final smile as he left. "You're mother is very lucky to have a sweet son like you."

Xander blushed. His mother hadn't paid any attention to him in the last three months except to ask him to pass a corkscrew and open the package of swizzle sticks. "Nah. I mean, yeah. I mean, some people just bring it out in me and I- need to go. Go now. To find the order forms for string." He stumbled backwards from the room.

"Sweet. But maybe a little off sometimes." Joyce chuckled to herself.

* * *

"Okay, you're slacking off. This tiny locally owned and operated business needs all the magical help it can get." Anya hissed emphatically at Tara as a third customer entered.

"Wh-what? Slacking?" Tara knocked over a small stack of flyers and hastily set them upright. "Oh, sorry!"

"I'm not worried about the papers- I know a demon who works at the Qwik Copy, and he let me have them for half price." Anya stacked the flyers back in order. "I meant the complete lack of reading people. Auras are your thing. I handle money, Spike sizes up the outside, you size up the inside. Now- go. Look at auras." Anya tried to hustle her out into the center of the gallery. Tara just looked distracted. Anya's hands fell to her sides. "Tara?"

"I can't. I'm sorry. I can't see anything t-today." Tara put down the remaining papers and turned from Anya. "Excuse me." She glided off, eyes unfocused and vague.

"Well... do they make Visine for the inner eye?" Anya called after her. From across the shop, Willow abruptly stopped showing two freshmen through the stack of prints and stared after Tara's retreating form.

"Tara?" Willow began to follow her.

"Wait- are these $29.99 each or is the second one half off?" The freshmen held out a print in front of Willow, halting her.

"Uh- whatever it says on the back." Willow mumbled, and earned a glare from Anya. "Excuse me. That lady over there can help you." Willow pointed to Anya and sidestepped them.

"We're here. Isn't this the place where all the cool kids hang out?" Buffy entered the gallery, Spike close behind her, just in time to hear the back door slam.

"Apparently not as cool as we thought." Spike stopped as Buffy paused just inside the threshold.

* * *

"Tara?"

"I- I just need- a minute." Tara didn't turn to look at Willow. She stood outside the back door, leaning heavily on the brick wall, breathing unevenly.

"Did your - did someone call you?" Willow stood behind her, arms hugging her ribcage tightly, like she wanted to hug the woman in front of her.

"No... but they will." Tara looked down the alleyway. Fall nights began early. The sun sank between buildings though it was only a little past four.

"We don't have to go back there tonight. I didn't ask anyone, b-but I know we could spend the night someplace besides our room if you're afraid they're waiting around."

"They're waiting around. But they're not going to m-make me scared to go home." Tara's eyes connected with Willow's briefly. "Home with you."

Willow flew over to her and wrapped Tara in her arms. "Come on, let's go get something to eat, and we'll battle plan, okay? Spike and Buffy just got here, they can take over. Plus Joyce and Giles are still here. Everyone's here."

"No. No, I think if I s-sit and wait and think about it, my head's just going to burst." Tara rubbed her temples. "I just need some air, Sweetie. Then I need to go back in and help Giles finish cataloging."

Willow nodded mutely. This wasn't what she wanted to do. She wanted action. Destruction. Impetuous, yet sustainable violence. She shook slightly as she released her lover. She'd never felt like this before. Not quite like this.

But she knew who had.

* * *

Willow smacked into Buffy as Buffy came barreling into her. "Buffy!"

"Wills, sorry we're late! I missed some classes the other day and I didn't realize the due date for one of my papers and I had angry professor ranting and - ugh. Sucky timing right?" Buffy lowered her voice. "How's Tara? Any word from her dad?"

"Where's Spike?" Willow demanded in a sort of choked, helpless voice Buffy didn't recognize.

"Uh- Spike?" Buffy hollered over her shoulder, taking Willow by the elbows and pulling her forward.

"Back room, Sl-Buffy!" Spike called, correcting himself as he became aware of the few patrons in the store.

"Come on, sit down, breathe... what's happening?" Buffy led Willow to the back room which was now empty except for a certain goth "art consultant".

"They're coming for her. They're coming for her and they're looking for her, I know it, she knows it, and I- ergh!" Willow balled her fists. "I know she has to face them, I just don't know what to do while she waits! A-and when they get here, I still don't know what to do. Spike- you're evil." Willow turned to him suddenly.

"Oi. Well- yeah, actually. What's the point?" Spike darted a glance at Buffy.

"You still get the urge to rip people to little pieces, right?" Willow asked, almost pleadingly. "But you have to be good, or Buffy would- you know- stake you and then die like a Romeo and Juliet type of thing maybe, so you control the urge to pull people's lying, evil, hurtful, inconsiderate tongues out of their mouths." Willow crushed her knuckles together and mimed a variety of gruesome but not very understandable gestures before looking up to Spike with her wide doe eyes. "Yeah. So. How do you do that?"

Spike stared. Buffy stared. Willow waited, eyes moving ceaselessly.

"You high? You take some witchy brew with a side of aggression?" Spike asked finally. "Also- who the bloody hell are we talkin' about? Who's comin' and who do they want? Blondie?"

"I need to keep her safe." Willow looked anxiously into the store's exterior. "I'll do whatever I have to. I have power. I could-"

"Lose Tara forever if you do something she can't live with." Buffy seized Willow's cheeks and turned her face back to meet her own. "You're scaring me."

"They're scaring her!" Willow almost sobbed in desperation.

"WHO?" Spike's shout echoed into the gallery.

"Do I need to close this store for a dinner break?" Anya screeched threateningly. "Because that's poor customer service!"

Buffy ignored everything. "Willow- I don't know what's going on exactly, but I know you're scaring me. And I'm pretty tough. But think about Tara."

"That's all I'm thinking about." Willow admitted. "She's strong. Stronger than you know." Willow whispered, lashes suddenly wet and dewey as she blinked. "She shouldn't be scared. And she shouldn't leave unless she wants to. I can't let her go Buffy, I just can't-" Willow clutched her sweater over her heart, wadding it into a tense bundle of fabric. "I can't live without her."

"If you hurt Tara's family 'cause you lose control, you might have to." Buffy whispered.

"You don't understand. You don't know what they did to-" Willow's lips sealed, then parted as she licked them. "Buffy, Spike- I don't know what to do in a case like this."

Spike's eyes narrowed. "Case like what?" He asked softly. _What sort of "case" would make the spitfire, the good girl, tap into the flames?_ _Can feel the blood boiling in her without even touching her._ Spike's watched her rearrange her features, avoid his eyes. _Someone's hurt Red's girl. Stupid mistake. The sweet, good ones... they haven't had the practice of bein' sly, bein' subtle, temperin' the hate. It'll consume her, and then she'll spew it forth on whoever earned it, hard, fast, obvious. All that power, and all that love..._

"Willow can't really talk about-" Buffy filled the silence as Willow seemed tongue tied and Spike seemed to be trying to read her mind.

"She doesn't need to. I understand her. We both do. When someone hurts the one thing that makes your world turn, what do you wanna do?"

"Hurt it back." Willow ground out, guilt and anger warring inside her.

"Make it stop." Buffy whispered.

"Take it from the demon tryin' to play nice," Spike gave a tight smile, "don't give into the urge- unless it's them or you."

"What?" Willow didn't expect to hear that advice.

"Not you. You'll get a taste for it." Spike licked his blunted teeth. "It's hard to forget you've tasted it, too."

"Faith." Buffy shivered.

Willow doubted that she could ever "get a taste for it". It would be once, and only if necessary. Then the doubts were replaced with one certainty. _Tara- Tara doesn't need one more person turning into a monster. She's had enough of that already._ "Just help me, then? Help me if we have to keep them from-"

"Wills, are you crazy? You don't even need to ask!" Buffy cried.

The atmosphere relaxed. "I'm just freaked. And freaking." Willow explained needlessly.

"I get it."

"I don't!" Spike grunted in frustration. "Can one of you please tell me exactly what's about to happen, what I'm s'posed to be helpin' with?"

"I'd like to know a little more too, if that's cool with everyone." Buffy prodded gently.

Willow opened her mouth, and shut it with a small shrug. "Tara doesn't want to leave. That's all I can say."

"But-"

The backdoor shut with a thud, and Willow bolted from the room. Tara appeared, paler than Willow had thought possible. The wiccas locked gazes. Spike and Buffy watched Willow's face transform into some blend of guilt, fear, and anger. Tara's face was immobile. For a second.

"My dad's truck just passed the cross street." Tara whispered. "I saw it turning through the alleyway, b-but I don't th-think he saw me."

Her face transformed. Something scared, lost, and desperate came over the gentle countenance.

The store seemed to freeze. Whether it was the tone, or the meaning of the words to those in the know, or just the look on their friend's face- they suddenly understood something was very wrong. No one said anything.

"Here is your change, madam." Giles' officious tones shattered the dread stillness. "I'm sorry... dinner break. Everyone out. Employees only, everyone else out. Thank you, thank you, yes, do come again." They knew something was serious, and the seriousness was driven home by the fact that Anya was the one who quickly went to open the door, and said nothing as Giles and Xander shooed out a handful of potential paying customers.

"Tara? What's going on?" Joyce rose from the stool kept behind the register.

"I- I should go. I need to go. I can't be here, I can't let you be here for-" Tara's stammer was worse, her breathing so fast and high that everything came out as a gasp.

"Get her some water." Giles ordered and Anya fled to the restroom in back.

"You don't need to leave, you need to stay right here, with us." Buffy said kindly, but firmly.

"I think I need to be filled in here." Xander said, perplexed.

"Tara?" A harsh voice called and all four figures jumped.

Tara let out a sharp, pained noise.

Willow, Buffy, Spike and Xander all gave each other puzzled glances. "Deja vu?" Xander scratched his head.

"Heard that before." Buffy murmured.

"You can't have." Willow whispered.

"Not in this world. Maybe some other." Spike growled in an undertone.

"Maybe the dream."

"Not my dream."

"All the dreams are blurring." Tara, pathway through most of them, replied in a hollow voice. Then, as ever, she automatically returned to caring for those around her. _Xander asked me a question. _"Um. Xander. I - I think th-that-"

Xander swallowed. "Never mind. Consider me caught up."

"Who is that?" Joyce came around from behind the counter, an anxious expression on her face.

"My family." Tara answered stiffly.

"Oh. My. Isn't that nice?" Joyce said in some perplexity.

"Not really, no." Willow replied. "Giles, you did lock that door, didn't you?"

He hadn't. He hurried to Joyce who was fumbling her hands across the counter now, looking for the key."Is someone going to try to get-"

"Tara!" A broad shouldered blonde man strode through the door, flinging it back enough to sprain the hinges. Anya, returning with the glass of water almost yelled out something about paying for damages, but froze as she saw Tara's stricken look. The man didn't seem to care, but blundered in with a cheerful, almost gloating tone."Thought I saw you around back!"

"D-Donny." Tara croaked.

"Dad went by the dorms, but you were out. Guy at the desk said you and your- roommate- worked here sometimes." Donny smiled around at the assembled crowd, a wide, oblivious smile on his face, eyes narrowing slightly when he caught sight of Willow's hands reaching for Tara's waist, almost like she was going to pull her away. "Whatsa matter, Tar? Don'tcha have a hug for your big brother?"

Tara stumbled forward and hugged him briefly- only he wouldn't let go. "Been too long, little sister."

"Hello. I'm Rupert Giles." Giles stuck his hand out pointedly, and Donny released Tara, who stepped back a little too quickly for common politeness, looking at her shoes.

"Pleased to meet you." Donny pumped his hand enthusiastically. "This your boss?"

"N-no. Just a friend. These are my friends." Tara found Willow pressed behind her again and began the introductions. "Willow, Buffy, Spike, Xander, Anya, Joyce, and M-Mr. Giles."

Donny laughed openly. "No kidding? That must be more people than you _spoke _to in high school." He gave his sister a friendly punch on the arm and Willow made a strangled noise in the back of her throat that set everyone on high alert.

"Donny, was it?" Joyce smiled. "What brings you to town?"

"Tara's birthday is tomorrow. Thought she ought to come home. Celebrate it with family." The smile remained on his face, but the eyes were suddenly hard. "Right, Tara?"

"That's very nice. A birthday with family." Joyce interjected when Tara didn't reply automatically.

"Wh-where's Dad?" Tara asked with a scratchy sounding voice, swallowing.

"Had trouble parking the truck with the camper attached. He's all hitched up and ready for the road home."

"Did-didn't he tell you I don't want to-" Tara never got to finish. Her voice died away as she saw two figures through the glass store front.

"There's my girl." Mr. Maclay and a petite girl with strawberry blonde hair entered the store. "Tara." He smiled stonily at her.

"Dad. Beth." Tara's head made a spasm that was supposed to be a nod of welcome.

"Dad, Tara's got friends." Donny said with a chuckle.

"Why shouldn't she?" Xander demanded as Willow made a spluttering sound. "She's a great girl. A nice person. Totally friend worthy!"

"Isn't that nice." Mr. Maclay nodded around the circle of onlookers. "Honey? Are you ready to go?"

"No. No. I'm- I'm still at work until seven." Tara stalled, and flushed. _Everyone knows I'm scared and I'm stalling but I'm not doing anything about it. But I _can't _do anything about it..._

"I'm sure these kind folks would let you leave early, just this once. For your birthday celebration with your family." Mr. Maclay locked eyes with Giles and Joyce who he assumed were the store's owners.

"I'm sure they would." Willow jutted her chin out firmly. "If - if Tara wanted to leave . Now. Which she doesn't. Now. Do you?" What started out confident ended up as nervous and a little desperate.

"And you are?" Mr. Maclay addressed her.

"I'm- Willow. I'm someone who respects Tara's wishes. And her friend." Willow said carefully. "I'm her very best friend."

"If you were her friend, then you wouldn't make her feel guilty about leaving a few hours early to go home with her family." Beth said primly in a barely civil voice.

"Erm. Perhaps we should give Tara a moment? To confer with her father and siblings."

"I'm a _cousin_." Beth said hotly. "On her _father's_ side."

That caused raised eyebrows from most. Willow just mumbled something softly and angrily.

"Charming." Giles coughed, at a loss. "Why don't you four use the office?"

"But-" Willow reached for Tara's hand.

"I'll be fine. You'll be right here." Tara squeezed her hand briefly and spoke with that unique connection they had forged, her eyes pleading for them to stay close, but not make a scene. Willow's eyes seemed to reply, "Let them try to stop me."

* * *

"Dad. I'm n-not going home." Tara forced out the words with a shuddering breath.

Mr. Maclay frowned, but it was Beth who spoke up, furiously and in a lecturing tone, like a cross between a repressed spinster school marm and a wet hen. "What do you mean 'you're not going home'?"

"I- I think I'm b-better off-"

"You don't think! Or you never would've left in the first place. Your father and your brother - rattling around in that big old house, no one else around for miles-" Beth didn't notice Tara's sudden twitch. "You don't care about your family at all. Leaving them to fend for themselves. Your father's been worried sick! Wondering what sort of... black, satanic, _demonic_ lifestyle you're living!"

"I'm not!" Tara yelped angrily.

"You're putting all these people in danger- just- just _sitting _here, like a ticking time bomb, _waiting_ until midnight when you_ change_." Beth looked at her like she was some virus waiting to be spread and infect the populace.

"N-no!" Tara shook her head frantically.

"Tara?" Buffy's voice called. "Would your company like some tea? Or sandwiches? There's a little shop right up the street that makes-"

"We're having a private conversation." Mr. Maclay interrupted. "We won't be long."

Beth's voice dropped to a whisper. "Your little 'friends' wouldn't care so much about you if they knew what you really are. Humans don't like to hang out with half-demons. That's why you never had any-" Beth broke off as Tara suddenly smiled. "What?"

"You don't know my friends." Tara whispered, smile hanging on by a thread.

"Do they know what you are? Have you told them?" Her father's voice drove the smile off her face.

"I-"

"She hasn't. She lies. Lies all the time." Donny insisted roughly. Tara backed up a step.

"Have you been doing spells on them?" Beth gasped, and Tara started guiltily. "You have!"

"I haven't! Protection sp-spells. S-some charms f-for safety-"

"From you! Oh, Tara, if you have to 'magically' get your friends to stay with you, then they're not really your friends. You shouldn't have to protect them to be around them."

"Not from me, I'm n-not dangerous!" Tara cried brokenly.

"You think performing your magic on innocent people isn't dangerous?"

"You know what she can drive people to." Donny murmured to his father.

"That does it. You think they'll accept you? Wait until I tell them, and then we'll see, Tara." Mr. Maclay folded his arms. "This is your last chance. Come with us graciously, with some sort of dignity, or watch your friends reject you."

_Willow won't. Spike won't. Anya won't. Buffy loves Spike. Xander loves Anya. And everything he says is a lie anyway._ "Whatever I am- I'm staying here. Y-you can tell them whatever you want." Tara whispered, and pushed the door open with an effort.

"Tara!" Willow rushed to her side and a half-circle of Scoobies formed around her. "Are you okay?"

"She is _not _okay. She is very far from okay. She is going home. Tara has a very serious problem and only her family knows how to treat it."

"Is that so?" Spike looked the gray haired man up and down. "What problem is that?"

"That's none of your concern. She's going home with her family and that's all that matters."

"I'm not!" Tara shouted, fists clenched, eyes closed. Paintings swayed on their hangers, pedestals rocked. "I. Am. Staying. Here." She didn't stutter. Her voice had a curious tone to it, but nothing that screamed of magic.

"If Tara wants to stay here, then it seems there's no more need for you to - be on these premises." Giles said as diplomatically as possible.

"Tara is welcome here at any time." Joyce added, taking Giles' arm.

"That's very kind of you." Mr. Maclay said through clenched teeth, "but this is not your affair. I am her father and I say what will happen to her, and where she will go."

"Whoa. I'm sorry- you don't get more 'old fashioned' girl than me," Anya cocked her head thoughtfully, "and even I thought that sounded like something out of a couple centuries ago."

"Tara wants to stay." Willow defended her shaking girlfriend. "It might not be our decision, but it is hers!"

"No, it's not!" Danny stomped his foot. "Dad!"

"Get in the car right now, Tara. Don't make more mess than you have already. You don't move yourself, young lady, I'll move you." He looked around the shocked faces before him and dared anyone to argue. "This is my child. I don't want any interference."

"You picked the wrong people to say that to, mate." Spike chuckled darkly.

"Sure. You go ahead and take her." Buffy said grimly, arms crossing defensively as she stepped forward. "You just have to take me first."

The Maclay clan looked stunned. This tiny California girl, with her long blonde hair and her prettily applied make up- threatening them? "What?"

"You heard her." Spike rubbed his hands gleefully.

"Me next." Willow's fingertips flickered.

"I'm in." Anya had pleasant memories of vengeance dancing through her mind as she stepped forward.

"As are we all." Giles disengaged Joyce's arm and took off his glasses.

"Is this some sort of joke?" Mr. Maclay demanded. "A bunch of teenage girls-"

"I'm afraid this is deadly serious, I'm afraid. You're not just dealing with just a few young ladies, Mr. Maclay." Giles began very deliberately rolling up his sleeves.

"That's right." Xander informed them. "You mess with one of us, you mess with all of us."

"This is insane. You people have no right to interfere with Tara's affairs. _We_ are her blood kin! Who the hell are you?"

Ask a stupid question. The Scoobies looked at each other. Mother, father, partners, siblings. Only two people out of their group had any form of 'blood' tie. But the answer was blindingly obvious. Buffy told the newcomers what all of them knew but didn't always take time to say. "We're family."

Tara's chest heaved and she smiled through a splash of single bright tears. Family. A_ real_ family. Willow wiped the drops away, smiling through her own misty vision.

Mr. Maclay had reached that deep, silent rage, and it rendered him speechless for a moment. Not so for his impetuous, immature son.

"Bullshit." Donny barked, and marched up to Tara and Willow, then turned back and entreated his father. "Dad! You you gonna let 'em just..." He gestured at Tara standing in this cluster of people. He turned back to his sister, forefinger extended warningly. "Tara, if you don't get in that car, I swear by god I will beat you down."

Snarls and exclamations broke out, but Xander was the one who strung words together this time. "And I swear by your full and manly beard, you're gonna break something trying."

"Make it a lot of somethings." Willow backed him up.

"Make it everything, what the hell." Buffy smiled with false sweetness. Donny looked cowed and fell silent.

Beth's snippy voice filled the space where Donny's bluster should have been, had it not been temporarily deflated. "Well. I hope you'll all be happy hanging out with a disgusting demon."

Glances were exchanged yet again. Anya raised her hand. "Excuse me. What kind?"

Beth blinked. "What?"

"What kind of demon? Are you saying _Tara_ is a demon?"

"She is!"

"Okay... so what kind is she? There's a lot of different kinds. Some are very, very evil. And some have been considered to be useful members of society." Anya finished with a preening smile.

"You tell 'em, Ahn." Xander gave her the thumbs up.

Beth was flummoxed. She'd never been aware of "kinds". Just what her uncle told her. A demon. A nasty, hell-bastard creature. "Well, I-I ... what does it matter?"

"Evil is evil." Mr. Maclay's rage subsided enough to loosen his tongue. Her friends hadn't been shocked at all. Far from it. More curious. Frustration added to the anger.

"Well, let's just narrow it down." Anya put her hands on her hips and glared at Beth. "You're talking to some experts here, so let's go. Why is Tara a 'disgusting demon'?"

Donny had apparently realized that verbal skirmishes wouldn't get them anywhere. As his father fumed and Anya and Beth sniped, he waited, and watched. As heads turned towards the speakers, away from their watchful position on Tara- he snagged her arm. Hard. He pulled. "I've got her, let's go!"

There was a white burst, like a single camera flash, and a hoarse, masculine cry.

Tara jerked her arm away, with a frantic cry, "Don't touch me! No one touches me unless I want them to!" _I hurt him. I hurt Donny. Oh my God. His hand. His hand! _

Donny stared at his fingers. Everyone did. Red and blistered, he held them out, shaking.

"Dad! She's turnin' now! Her skin! The demon blood is bubbling up through it, it's boiling! She's going to burn us alive!" Donny looked wild eyed at his hand and jibbered like an overgrown toddler. He snorted with pain and the effort of not blubbering as he rushed to his father, injured digits outstretched.

Mr. Maclay, disgusted by this show of hysteria and weakness, shoved the hands away harshly. "Don't be a fool, it's just her magical ways."

"She didn't do a spell! It's her skin! It burns. She's not burning up 'cause she's one of them now, Dad! She's a _demon_!"

"Why does everyone keep saying that like it's a bad thing?" Anya muttered crossly.

"Shut up, Donny!"

"But she's turned already!"

"Shut up! She hasn't turned, she's just a witch, with witchy tricks! Her mother's people were all the same, like the devils themselves but not a drop of demon in-" Mr. Maclay stopped shouting at his wailing, panicking son as the words crossed his lips. He started speaking rapidly and loudly at Tara, about what a danger she was, but it was no good. Everyone caught the slip of his tongue.

Tara waded to her father through invisible barriers of shock and anger, feeling every step dragging her feet. "What did you say?"

"You've burnt your brother's hand. Are you happy? Don't you see how dangerous you are?"

Tara didn't feel the familiar guilt and shame, her eyes remained focused on her father. "You knew? You knew... all this time and you lied to me?" Her head cocked in heartbroken confusion, waiting for a denial that never came.

"You don't belong here." Mr. Maclay reached for her arm, but Tara simply shrugged herself out of the way.

"You made me believe I was bad. That I was evil. Are you saying all the time you knew that I- I'm just a witch?"

"Witches are evil, no matter what your mother said!"

"Hey!" Willow shouted indignantly. Buffy waved her to silence.

Tara shook her head, mouth trembling, bowing in the middle as her lips gave way to a shaking cry. "You knew what happened - what happened to me wasn't my fault, that it couldn't be- d-demonic or anything like that! But you still didn't do anything?"

Mr. Maclay laughed harshly. "You were doing enough all by yourself. Oh, you were going bad- just like your mother. Partying. I knew about you and the boys-"

"But Tara's a-" Anya raised her hand again.

"Shhhh!" Xander gave her a worried stare, afraid to take his eyes of the family drama unfolding for more than a second.

The angry father continued his tirade. "You and your spell books, lying, keeping secrets- turning into your mother. She always used to promise she'd stop, then I'd catch her, with her herbs and her chants and her - her eyes! 'Reading people'! Things no human should do!"

"A gift doesn't make you evil!" Tara grasped the air around her for support, but no one was beside her now. She rocked to the side and then steadied herself. "Mom never hurt any-"

"She hurt herself plenty! I shouldn't have let her continue with that nonsense, but no, she snuck around, did her 'rituals' and her 'rites', said it was in her blood- until damn if those tests didn't prove it really was- something in her blood alright, killing her."

"Cancer, Dad! _Cancer_! It kills people, n-not just wiccas, but normal people, people like -" Tara stopped speaking with a stricken look at Joyce, then a horrified, apologetic look at Buffy and Giles. "I- I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"

"No, you didn't mean it. Didn't mean to let yourself get hurt, neither did your mother. But by God, Tara, if I couldn't stop her, I'll stop you." He came oppressively close to his daughter, in an overpowering, threatening stance, reaching for a fistful of her hair this time.

"Dad, stop!"

"You don't need to have demon blood in you, to still be marked by the devil."

His hand never connected. Something black and white and irritable blurred the air and grabbed him by the wrist. "D'you wanna get burned, you twit?" Spike spat, pushing Tara roughly out of the way, back into the waiting arms of Willow and Buffy.

"Take your hands off me!"

"No, I don't think I will. You're the one goin' around spoutin' off about bein' marked by the devil." Spike smiled unpleasantly. "I've got demon blood in me and I'll be bloody happy to 'mark' you up as much as you like." The smile slowly shifted, replaced by hard creases, ridges where human muscles never went. "Whaddya say, Daddy Dearest?" Spike taunted through snapping fangs.

Mr. Maclay turned the color of spoiled milk and jerked his arm away as Spike shoved him back a step. Looking frantically at Donny and Beth, he gasped out, "It's happened. Oh, God, I knew it wasn't white magic. She's called the devils out of hell! Back! Back!" He held a hand out towards Spike, who rolled his eyes.

Donny's hysterical sputtering increased, but Beth didn't seem to be as afraid of Spike as much as she seemed to be in a mild form of shock. "Wait- you lied to us? You lied to your family? You knew this was a lie?" She looked at both the vampire and her fanatical uncle fearfully.

"Now who's on the bus to hell?" Xander said snarkily.

"This one'd lie about anything if it kept her weak and scared to go against him." Spike ran his eyes up and down Mr. Maclay like he was inspecting a cut of meat in a butcher's window. One got the impression this particular cut was infested with maggots as Spike's face contorted in disgust. "You like your women kept in line. Do anything to make sure they bowed to the lord and master. So concerned about family appearances you'd lie? Make yourself look like the big man?"

Mr. Maclay swallowed and spoke to his family instead of his accuser. "Apparently it's_ not_ a lie. Look at who she's with, Beth, Donny. You can see I've been right all along! No human would tolerate the presence of this demon unless she was one herself!"

"Utter rubbish." Giles cried.

"Weren't you listening to what I said about demons being productive members of society?" Anya asked indignantly.

"You're the ones who are lying!" Donny bellowed unexpectedly, looking like he was working up the courage to tackle someone. "You- you're all tainted! You're all freaks!"

"Stop that!" Tara hissed angrily at her brother. "You have no right to say things like that, to accuse people of things like that!"

"Shut up." Spike turned to Tara abruptly, and smiled. In his vampiric face, it was a terrifying look. "Your family doesn't know what's what, what's demon and what's not." He grabbed her wrist- but though he did it with a lightening strike move, Tara didn't burn him, only gasped. "You folks all agree that I'm a demon, don't you?" He lead in a dark, coaxing tone, something malicious in each syllable.

"YES!"

"Then here's a little lesson from the hellspawn. Demons can smell other demons." Spike pulled Tara to his side, making her eyes dart nervously. "We smell demon blood. Half blood, quarter blood, just a trace- I can smell it a thousand yards off." He laid his head gently alongside Tara's, closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. Tara let out a muted whimper. Spike lightly squeezed her wrist. _It's okay. Gonna get us all out of this soon._ "Mmmmm." Spike let out a long sigh. Then his dark yellow eyes snapped open and his face was set in frigid lines. "Fresh. Pure." He advanced towards Mr. Maclay. "We're talking the driven snow, mate." A wide, sinister smile widened his already grotesquely craggy features.

"You right evil bastard- manipulatin', lying- I could've gotten along with you- if you hadn't turned on your own daughter to do it- an how you did it-" Spike growled and shook his head.

Tara gave Willow a stricken glance, but Willow shook her head and shrugged.

Spike did not. "Wanna see a real demon in action?"

"Stop. Spike, s-stop." Spike dropped into his human features easily. "Dad, p-please just go." She made one final plea.

"No! I'm not leaving you here, with these- these monsters."

"I'd rather be with honest monsters than ones who pretend they won't hurt you." Tara whispered. "Go. Please. I wanna stay here."

He hesitated. Beaten but too proud, too stubborn, to used to bullying to admit it. "You're my daughter, and you belong with this family."

"This_ is_ her family." Willow stepped up, took her lover's hand possessively. "People who love her the way she is, whatever she is!"

"Yeah. Freaks. Like you." Donny spat, obviously shaken, darting nervous glances at his father.

"Well, as the chief freak," Buffy raised her hand, "I say you'd better get out of this store, right now, and leave Tara here. With the family that may be freakier, but seems a whole lot nicer."

"I can't reason with people like you." Mr. Maclay pushed Beth aside carelessly and began to march towards Tara. "Enough talk. You're getting in the car."

"You heard the man, no point in using reason with 'people like us'." Xander rushed forward.

"I call the father!" Spike caught on.

"I got the bearded wonder." Xander shouted.

"Seriously? Can't a girl get in a little ass kicking around here?" Buffy made for Mr. Maclay, close on Spike's heels.

With a shriek, Beth flew from the store. Donny took a futile swing, but years of fighting- and getting hurt, had given Xander excellent ducking skills. He tackled the burly man and shoved him out the swinging glass door that Anya held open.

Spike let out a feral, purely demonic sound and threw Mr. Maclay bodily out, letting Buffy hustle them all towards the truck parked down the block.

"I've never said this before, but we don't want your business!" Anya shouted after them. "Take your lies and money someplace else!"

"Are you alright?" Joyce hurried over to Tara as the unwelcome visitors left.

Tara nodded, smiling shakily, clutching Willow for support. _I stood up to them. They didn't take me. I'm not a demon and Dad lied. Dad _knew_ he was lying. He knew- that I was never "cursed" but he still treated me- _Tara's knees gave out and she sat heavily on the floor, shaking slightly.

"Tara!" Willow gasped and followed her down.

"I'm sorry. I'm _so_ sorry. Mrs. S-Summers, I didn't mean to cause all this t-trouble." Tara said through chattering teeth as she cast a pleading look at Joyce. She snuggled into Willow to get warm, suddenly cold and queasy.

"You didn't cause anything." Joyce comforted staunchly. "Those- those _people _did."

"People is such a generous term." Anya grumbled and locked the door after Buffy, Spike, and Xander reentered. "Crazy, stupid, unkind, rude, chauvinistic-"

"That's Tara's family you're talking about. Shh." Buffy tugged on her arm.

"Nu-uh." Xander tried to simultaneously defend Anya, and cheer up the trembling figure on the floor, "I believe _we _were declared the true family. The once and future relatives." Putting an arm around Anya's waist, they sauntered over to the huddle on the floor.

"Alright?" Spike asked, leaning against some expensive sculpture he really shouldn't have touched. "Sorry about the sniffin' thing, just thought it'd shut your old man up."

"It did. All of you did. All of you-" Tara closed her eyes and put her hand to her cheeks to collect herself. "Thank you."

"Any time." Buffy smiled and reclined on the floor beside her.

"We love you." Willow reminded her softly.

Tara smiled at them, all of them, her eyes welling up yet again, her mind a churning mess of emotions, victorious, shocked, relieved, embarrassed, grateful... _It's over. But now all of them know so much more about me, they have questions, they've seen things I wished no one would ever see. This was my fresh start, where the past wasn't going to hurt me anymore. That failed. _

_Now it's all over. The rush is over, the emergency is over and there's just me, the girl with the psychotic family who crashed Mrs. Summers' store and humiliated me in front of the only friends I've ever had._ She resisted the urge to dry heave.

_I'd still rather be left here, not knowing what'll happen next, than in that truck with them, knowing exactly what my life would be like. Miserable and lonely. _

"Thank you." Tara repeated more softly.

"Right. Okay, so... that was the happy birthday from hell." Xander said loudly, making everyone gasp. "Now, obviously the day isn't until tomorrow, but I say that craziness deserves a traditional Scooby happy birthday follow up."

"Oh not a traditional one." Buffy bounced to her feet. "My traditional birthdays include things of the major bad happening. Monsters. Kidnapping. Boyfriends going evil..." She leaned against Spike affectionately. "Guess I'm good for that this year." She offered Tara a hand to help her off the floor. "Oooh, so you're really, really extra officially a Scooby now. You've had birthday suckage."

Tara laughed and nodded, blushing.

"I concur. About the need to wash this fiasco away. Not the -hrm- suckage." Giles winced. Spike rolled his eyes sympathetically.

"The way she talks..." Spike groaned.

"If we could all get off the floor?" Giles offered Willow a hand.

"Do we think Bronze?" Xander asked the room at large. Willow gave him an angry stare. "Oh. Oh, no, not the Bronze. We go there so often." Xander covered hastily, recalling Tara's little party was already scheduled there for tomorrow night. "We should go some place fun and different."

Tara finally found her voice over the lump that was forming. It was just enough to be with these people. They didn't have to take her out anywhere to cheer her up. "We don't have to go out."

"Yes we do! You're family, and we throw family birthday parties! And pre-birthday parties as well." Buffy declared.

Tara's queasiness and jelly legs faded into calm. _Maybe they know my past - and maybe they can guess some of the things that happened to me. It doesn't matter. They don't love me any less. In fact, this is the first time in a long time I've felt like more than one person loved me at all._ "There's a new Chinese place opening on Third?"

"Should we go now?"

"For a party this large, it might be wise to get a reservation."

Plans begin to form, filling the air. Willow was silent, just stroking Tara's hair contentedly. _She's safe. She's here. Thank God._

* * *

_So that's the secret. Tara comes with a side of crazy people. Welcome to the club. _Buffy watched Willow urgently whispering something to her lover, nodding emphatically, reassuring, while her eyes still occasionally checked the perimeter.

_Will wanted to rip them apart. I can see why. But she did what she needed to do more, be there for Tara. Tara has enough violence in her past- at least of the emotional, screaming at you and lying to you kind of violence._ Buffy recalled a few little snips of language and hints that she'd gotten through the course of getting to know Tara. She suspected the verbal violence wasn't the end of things. She shuddered suddenly against Spike._ I'm glad Willow kept the raging, 'rip them into pieces' side in check though. Sometimes it's important just to be with them when they need you most. _Another sudden shudder, and she sank into the hardness of the body beside her, grateful to have someone to lean on, someone who wouldn't leave her leaning into emptiness, falling.

"Okay, Slayer?" He murmured for her ears only, tightening his arm subtly around her hips.

Buffy smiled at him in return. "Sure. Wasn't my trauma today."

"Ah, you're all so bloody tangled up. One big blob, spell or no spell." He said with mock disgust.

"For an 'outsider' you did some pretty good growling and threatening." She reminded him.

"Well..." He tried to look modest and failed. "Hate that sort of human." _Quite like the girl as well. Unlike her father. Evil bastard. If anyone gets the demon lookalike prize, it'd be that one, not the daughter. _"Woulda liked to break that one's windpipe, don't mind sayin'."

"Glad you didn't. My dad isn't in the same category of awfulness or anything, but he's not going to win father of the year anytime soon. Still- I would feel horrible if I thought I was responsible for him getting hurt." Buffy looked lingeringly at Joyce, who was deep in conversation with Giles. "Maybe that's why I'm not too busy wishing he was around."

"Hey, now." Spike chided. "You protect 'em however you can." His voice became distant, but she didn't seem to notice, her own mind far away. "Do whatever you have to, whatever you think'll be best..." _Even if you're dead wrong, you had to try. And at least if they're far away, they're not in the line of fire..._

"You're good on the saying the right stuff front." Buffy sighed as his words penetrated.

"Mmm, do I get treats?" He asked seductively.

"Later." Buffy hurriedly whispered as Willow and Tara began to move, seeming to signal everyone should get themselves in order and head out.

"Joyce and I will drive and meet you there." Giles called over his shoulder as the couples paired off and fell into line.

"I'm not quite up to walking that far." Joyce explained over a chorus of voices immediately reassuring her, brushing her words away.

Spike and Buffy brought up the rear of the line, and then the couples spread out a little, paired off, happy in their own shaken, grateful ways.

"Think she'll be okay?" Buffy watched Willow and Tara swaying together, heads meeting in the middle.

"Yeah. 'Specially when she has the army of 'freaks' about her. God, the soul chafes a bit sometimes. Coulda done with a little less blood in him, that one."

"You did a good job restraining yourself to just a little father football." Buffy recalled the way Spike had thrown Mr. Maclay viciously from the store.

"Rugby, Pet. Now if I'd kicked him out, literally-"

"Is this one of those English things again?"

"It's an everywhere but this country thing." Spike snapped.

"Is not."

"Is too!"

"Can you just hurry up and get that British to American dictionary you promised me- like- forever ago?"

"If you'd jus' listen when I talk, Luv."

"You have better things to do with your mouth." Buffy flirted.

"I don't really need the Chinese, Baby." Spike tried to tug her in the opposite direction. "Prefer a little honey..."

"Spike! Later!" Buffy giggled.

"Stop having verbal sex! We can hear the giggling and salivating!" Xander shouted back in aggravation.

"Shut up!"

"No, you shut up!"

Tara stopped abruptly and spun around. She said nothing, just beamed. Her light was infectious.

"Happy early birthday, Sweetie." Willow whispered. "I mean- I hope that it's-"

"Very happy. I'm with all of you." Tara grinned.

In all the joy and all the bickering, the coming down from the adrenaline highs, no one thought too hard about the details. In all the joyful, relieved confusion, no one found time to notice that Spike, supposedly harmless, had been able to hurt Mr. Maclay- a human.

* * *

_To be continued..._


	19. Part XVIII

** Unknown **

**By Sweetprincipale**

_This is set in my non-canon, but canon-esque series following Uncontrollable and Unmentionable. If you haven't read those first, please do, or this won't read nearly as well or make much sense. Unknown begins a few weeks after the end of Unmentionable, around the beginning of season five._

_Dedicated to: ginar369 - who provided immense support this week in particular, Alexiarrose, omslagspapper, Dlillith21, Sirius120, Jackiemack916, Jewel74, Illusera, cavemenftw, rosalea12, kse93, kerry220, jhiz, Alottalove, CailinRua, skeezixx, Juggling, Pickl3lily, Annomonk, .49, DidiSummers, Rachel, Juggler, Nonnikie, arlenedemalk, Mike13z50, and all the anonymous guest reviewers who I can't reply to personally and thank. Your support means so much to me! Thank you. I hope my story is thanks enough for the kindness that you show me._

_Direct Quotes are obviously not mine, but belong to the fabulously talented and creative people who wrote them. In this case, some of season five's dialogue will be used. _

_**Disclaimer: Nothing of Buffy belongs to me, except my sincere admiration. However, this story is all mine.**_

**Part XVIII**

"This is- really awesome." Tara held up the heavy crystal gazing ball from Giles.

"What was that?" Giles bellowed, hand cupped to his ear.

"AWESOME!" Tara shouted back, holding up the ball and nodding eagerly at it.

"You said we couldn't get that. You said it was 'stereotypical'." Xander hissed at Anya.

"Willow is _your_ best friend, _she's_ the one who rants on about stereotyping witches. When I asked if they had a broom, Tara said they had a dust buster for their dorm. Then I got the stereotype lecture again." Anya shrugged and pushed her volume of runic translations wrapped in tissue paper across the table littered with empty cups and half eaten cake. "Happy birthday! You can't return it, I got it on clearance."

"I need one of these! Really!" Tara beamed again. "Definitely a keeper."

"Ooh, let me look at that." Willow affectionately leaned her chin on her girlfriend's shoulder, arms around her waist, cuddling on her. Tara held up the book so she could see better, the picture of contentment, insides warm and surging softly with the feel of Willow wrapping around her.

"I had like- no time- o-or brain cells, devoted to shopping, and I was going to run to the store yesterday, but then with the - the _things_, and the Chinese pre-birthday dinner-" Buffy babbled nervously, hands clasping and unclasping.

"She means she didn't have a lot of time to browse, but she hopes you like it." Spike plunked a small box wrapped in the art gallery's standard brown paper down in front of Tara. He avoided looking at his lover, who had been agonizing over what to get the girl and hadn't managed to shop, what with school and impromptu confrontations at every sodding turn.

"Uh. Yeah. And that's not the whole gift. That's an appetizer gift." Buffy explained, trying to keep the shocked look off her face.

Tara opened a box of clover and chamomile blend herbal tea. "Thanks, guys." She sniffed it and sighed happily. "Mmm."

"I figured it sounded all white witch flower power crap." Spike snorted. Willow and Buffy glared.

"But we figured you'd love it." Buffy intervened hastily and pressed it into Tara's hands with a sincere smile. All the while she was silently thinking it was nice she'd found someone who could bail her out on occasion, and who still required enough bailing out of his own to be considered an equal partner.

"That's it. We're gifted out. Do we dance some more?" Anya demanded. Buffy twisted a little, a broad smile on her face.

"I think I'm going to have to pass." Joyce smiled painfully. Pounding music, pounding head, greasy food, meds, and light sensitivity combined with the Bronze's effect lighting were causing her more pain than she'd willingly let on. "It was nice of you to invite the old folks out." She bussed Tara's cheek lightly and rose.

No one mentioned that Giles would have been invited, and that no one considered him old. Well- not all the time. "I wanted to have all my family here." Tara said with a gentle smile, eyes clear, with no lurking worry in them.

"I'll run you home." Giles smiled and hesitated before leaning down to press his cheek to Tara's as well. "Many happy returns."

"Thanks for coming." Tara didn't feel the usual urge to pull away from a relative stranger's touch. They were family now. Unrelated, and yet close as anyone had ever been to her.

The younger set waved them off, and then paired off, Willow and Tara, Xander and Anya to the dance floor, and Spike and Buffy hung back at the table.

* * *

"Good save with the tea." Buffy smiled crookedly at him.

"Good save with what you _said_ about the tea." Spike kept his eyes trained on the girls swaying together. "Those two. Gonna float away any second, practically got rainbows and angelic harp music comin' out of every orifice. Sickening." He pushed a cigarette into the corner of his sneering lips.

"Liar." Buffy teased, leaning over to him, brushing his ear softly with her warm lips. "You're happy for them."

"Of course I am." Spike admitted huffily, cigarette temporarily ignored. Then the miffed bad guy front dropped as he moved closer to her on the bar stools, and put the smoke back on the table. "In spite of all we've got goin' on, Slayer- I'm pretty bloody happy."

"Me, too." Buffy kissed him and sighed. "Patrol?"

"Then home?"

"Very yes." Buffy gathered her coat and hopped down to the floor as she watched two of her best friends gently lift off the ground, dancing on the air itself._ Love will do that to you_. "Let's make it a fast patrol. I can't wait to get home."

* * *

"Should we install some sort of a deadbolt?" Buffy entered the crypt a little after midnight, and paused at the door, staring at it after Spike shut it.

"Is that some sort of joke? I'll do you for racial slurs, Slayer." Spike shook his head at her and went over to the fridge. "Shoulda stopped at Willie's. Maybe someone oughta mention to the barkeep at the Bronze that a little of the red stuff wouldn't come amiss."

Buffy ignored him, still eyeing it critically. "People can walk right in here. I mean, yeah, we're usually hidden or downstairs, but you could get fried if someone throws the door open while you're sitting up here, watching _Passions_. And don't tell me you'd hear them coming, because you know you always fall asleep during _Geraldo_." Buffy ran her hands along the door frame thoughtfully. "Maybe we could ask Willow and Tara to at least install some sort of ward on the ground around it. Something that won't interfere with the anti-Riley spell. Or something that make a really loud sound if anyone comes within five feet of the door."

"What? A big magical doorbell?" Spike chortled and pulled his warmed blood from the microwave and drank it down.

"Not everyone knocks!" Buffy pointed out, pouting at his teasing.

"You sure as hell didn't. You wanna put out a little welcome mat, too? Bowl of nuts for visiting demons who're waitin' around to get the ass kicked off of 'em?"

"This from the vamp who was complaining about counter space two days ago."

"Need to put a board over one of the coffins. Solved." Spike drained the warm fluid fast so he wouldn't have to taste it. "Seriously, Luv, anyone who wants to come in here finds a very angry vamp, or a very offended Slayer, or both at once. No one'd live to tell the tale- or it'd be some unsuspecting drunk lookin' for a place to sleep it off. Either way- no one who'd be a repeat visitor." Spike sidled up to her. "If you're so worried about privacy, let's go downstairs."

"Mmm." Buffy nuzzled her head back under his chin as he embraced her. "Maybe I'm just trying to make sure Xander doesn't walk in on us messing up the chairs again. It'd scar him for life."

Spike inhaled the scent pressed right to his quivering nostrils. Eyes closed, white hands slowly wrapping around her arms. "Then lets do everything downstairs for now- and we'll put some sort of a chain on the hatch. We can tie it down once we're in if we need to. Our own little-" He licked the sweet salt tang of her skin, running slowly up the throbbing vein in her neck, "safe. Where no one gets to us."

"God, so good." She moaned. Being safe was good. Spike doing whatever he was doing to her pulse points? Better.

"I'm just getting started."

* * *

_Egypt_

"For starting over- this looks a hell of a lot like doing the same stupid things we've been doing." Glory looked resentfully around one of the little used temples of Isis, and stepped over a body of a recently brain-emptied priestesses . "This is a 'pagan' place. I don't think they would have hid it here."

"You needed to eat, Most Beautiful One." Jinx pointed to the mumbling, shaking bodies surrounding them.

"True."

"And it is a place of ancient magic. And goodness. Isis was the protector of children, friend to sinners, a devoted-"

"She was the mother of a war god. So good? Maybe, maybe not. Good is 'relative' to these skin bags. These Egyptian bitches had style, though." Glory considered, smiling at the wall paintings and ornate gold trimmings. They made her scowl momentarily. "You can still pay twenty bucks and take a tour of _their_ earthly kingdoms. Stupid humans."

"Your realm is one of pure hell, and so much more worthy of worship." Jinx placated.

Glory spared him a smile. "You're my favorite little scab, you know that?"

Jinx's leprous looking skin managed to change hue as he stammered out something appropriately abashed and grateful. He wasn't given any notice, for there was a relieved, glad cry from behind the altar where priests and mages were using the holy fire for a most unholy purpose.

"We've got it! We've found them!" The chief priest shouted, while the mages exchanged thankful looks. An impatient immortal in a rapidly decaying human vessel had little kindness for anything but results, and good news meant their lives were spared another day.

"Oh, thank - well, thank _me_." She smirked and rushed forward. "You get to live now." A chorus of sighs broke out. "If we catch them, that is." The sighs vanished.

"They're back in the area of their monastery." One mage explained in a puzzled voice.

"You have to go home sometime." Glory shrugged. "Or at least kill everyone trying."

He coughed uncomfortably. "But- we've been searching for the Abbott and fratres superior all this time and they were always cloaked."

"Not to mention they've been gone for -" One of the younger priests hesitantly began when he was cut off with a snap of blood red talons- and then actual blood.

"You better hope your tongue grows back before we find my Key." Glory turned away from the scrying flames, a triad of ruby pinpoints still dancing in her eyes. "I want to be there. Where they are. Now." Her blood flecked fingertips sizzled with a burst of power.

"Ah. Ah- no, no, please, your Amazingly Powerfulness." Jinx stammered. "The Knights will already be suspicious when they find an entire temple has been besieged by madness. Soon they'll be on our trail."

"So? Kill them." Glory gestured to the babbling, rocking people scattered around the temple floor. "Then no one'll know if they were missing their minds."

"But- when you use so much power, you drain all your energy. All you've just fed on, all you've gained, undone." Glory looked unconvinced. Jinx played his trump card. "You might get to the point where you're too weak to emerge. Your brother would be in control at all times..."

Glory huffed. "Fine! We'll travel in secret, we'll keep all this power bottled up." She snorted angrily. "But if I lose them again..." Her eyes raked across her minions, lingering over the unfortunate party gargling his own blood. She didn't need to finish her threat.

* * *

_Italy_

"Once again it falls to three noble brothers to step into shoes too soon left empty." A graying, grizzled figure in a long robe said gravely. Then he smiled sadly. "Still. We welcome you into your offices. Brothers Thomas, Gregori, and Antony, or as you shall now be called, Holy Father, and Fratres Superior." He placed a benediction on all three of the young men, now stepping into such dangerous roles. "Guide well, Abbot."

"As God directs me." Thomas, the gentle leader in the former Abbot's absence, gave the reply.

"Assist our Father well."

"With all our hearts." Gregori and Antony, two of the most skilled brothers, chosen to take the places of Mathias and Vincenzo, rejoined.

"A new era begins. An old battle still wages. Lead and fight in peace and safety."

Many voices agreed, "Amen."

* * *

"God, yes, God, yes, GOD! YES!" Buffy's chants matched the thrusting pace of him driving into her, harder and harder.

Spike chuckled. "Can I get a little credit, Luv?"

"No questions- brain broken." Buffy panted and pushed him over on his back, shifting and bucking to keep him inside her.

"Your brain and my spine." Spike griped, but clung onto her hips and slammed her down to his base. His jaw popped and flexed at the rush of scalding juice washing him down, hissed at the tight grip she had on him.

Buffy rolled her head back and looked at the ceiling, eyes fluttering as she rolled and ground herself against him.

Spike's eyes shut, then slitted. _All this coppery mass, blonde and honey, with hidden hints of pink... Beautiful_. He leaned her back a little and watched her sheath him, swallow him whole. His hand changed places, smooth, cool palm over her taut, trembling abdomen, and the thumb over her tight, pink nub.

Pounding, building up against him, a long wail, a soft wail, desperate fingers suddenly scrabbling for his and they locked together on her side, and at their joining.

"Don't hurt yourself." He groaned once, knowing it was an unnecessary caution.

"Doesn't hurt. Never hurts." She winced as something spasmed inside, and her hips twisted and strained, a long, wracking pulse.

"It's not pain, is it, Baby?" He was suddenly sitting up, eye to eye, a dark, breathless grin on his face as he tangled their thighs together, setting her cross legged around him, a knot of pleasured, fevered, flesh.

"Intense. Feels real. Feels like finally." _Finally feel something, inside me, inside my head and my heart and- ohhhh God, right there._ "Spiiike." She bit down on his shoulder in her climax, and felt his fingers clawing into her soft skin, without tearing it.

He shuddered under her and into her, making her cum again, a tremor after her quaking release.

Buffy clung to him, draped over him needfully, and he held onto her just as hard, harsh rasps on the nape of her neck, where blunt teeth and cool lips kissed deep and urgently.

"Wow."

"Bloody hell." He agreed.

"We need to take a night off more often."

"Yeah... or it could just be this is what every night at home would be like for us."

Buffy slowly lifted her head. His blue eyes were right there, waiting to engulf her green ones. "You keep saying things like that, I'm going to believe them."

"Good." He lifted her tangled hair off one side of her neck to cool it. "You're s'posed to b'lieve me. I'm not a lying bastard- to you any way." He gave her a small, crooked grin. Her smile blazed, then flickered and mellowed into something bittersweet. "What's that for?" He tilted his chin to her sobering smile.

"I love you. And I'm scared for you." She whispered. "Sometimes I start planning rosy -if completely unrealistic - futures in my head, and then I remember nothing is guaranteed to last. Death lives in this town. How's that for figurative language or something?" She tried to shrug the words into something meaningless. It wouldn't work.

"Hey. I know you're scared for your mum. An' me. I know there's a lot we don't know... maybe we're not meant to know, maybe we're never gonna know." Spike toppled down, let her join him, cradled on top. "I know I love you. I wanna be with you."

Everything was so simple with him. So stupidly complicated, but so simple between them. "This is home. I belong with you."

"You oughta know, 'specially after tonight. Family's what you make it."

_Family_. She'd had so little of it, and it had been so fragmented when she needed it most. That's why she'd easily fit into the surrogate clan of friends and Watcher. And now Spike. _Family sounds all - wholesome. Vampires and Slayers, and passionately declaring your love, screw right and wrong- that's friends and lovers stuff. But family? _"I'm your-"

He didn't let her question. Family had been a mother he was so desperate to keep alive that he ended up killing. Family had been blood, drained and shared. Blood meant nothing, no ties, only loyalty when it suited you, and betrayal when it suited them. Family was dark and painful, a mockery of what it should be. "You're _mine._ Nothing breaks that. Nothing changes it."

"You're mine, too." She agreed wholeheartedly.

There was a pause, both of them silent, not knowing what to say. Until he coughed and started to shift as if to get up. "Maybe that wasn't the best choice of words, yeah?" He mocked himself with a shrug of tight cream-colored shoulders.

"I just- never heard someone say it like that. You know? Not until there's a house and a station wagon and soccer balls-"

"Footballs."

"-tripping you up in the garage."

"That's one sort, I guess."

"The sort I'm not going to have." She squeezed his wrist to keep him beside her. "Never would have. No matter what."

"I know I can't give you that." He gave her a small, bitter smile. "But I thought it was about- not backin' down. Not carin' what you are or were or will be. Jus' lovin' each other 'til the show's all done."

Buffy swallowed. "And even after." Another swallow, nodding this time, stroking his arm. "Souls go on forever, right?" It wasn't a question, it was an assurance, phrased like that so they wouldn't think too hard about the meaning behind the words.

"I guess they do, Slayer." Resolutely keeping his voice even.

"So- you're right. About what you said."

Another pause.

Spike cleared his throat. "Well now. Slayer says I'm right. _Again_. 'Dear Diary'."

"I'm yours." Buffy ignored the playfulness, for the moment.

He agreed, smile less jovial suddenly, smile very happy, but very serious. "You're mine."

They kissed lightly, then harder, once, twice, sinking into something new yet so long wanted.

"Do love you." Spike sighed contentedly.

"You'd better. What with me being yours. I'm not being yours otherwise." Buffy prodded him softly.

"Ah ah, goes both ways. I'm yours, too."

Buffy snuggled to his side, loving the ease of things between them. So serious and so deep, but they could easily put it in a lighter context. Both halves of their beings, satisfied. "Absolutely. Mine to love and - and drive crazy. And rescue from angry moms with heavy weapons."

He laughed, soft and deep, nestling in, with her beside him. "Not so bad is it, Luv? Got you to defend m' honor." He winked.

"I'm small but I'm wiry." She laughed and flexed her slender fingers.

"Mmm, speaking of small and wiry..." He rolled and pinned her suddenly.

"Spike! Stop that!" Buffy giggled as he shimmied down her.

"Make me, Slayer." He winked, and dove, beginning round two.

* * *

_Two days later..._

Joyce blinked and blinked again, hands up to her eyes. "Rupert, turn that down. Turn it off, please." Her voice sounded faintly hysterical.

"Yes, Sweetheart, steady on-oh!" Giles tried to shut the light off and support Joyce, both of which failed. The lamp teetered, and Joyce stumbled heavily into him.

Joyce clutched at her eyes and winced. "It's too bright."

"Yes, far too bright." Giles placated, sitting her on the couch, then rapidly moving to turn off the offending light.

"Don't patronize me." Joyce warned, still pulling away from the source of her pain.

"I'm not." Giles sounded offended.

"Buffy should be doing this, not you." Joyce said with a sudden flare of pique.

Giles turned slowly. "Buffy is at class. After that, she and Willow need to research something. Then she is patrolling. Then she'll be home. If you'd like me to fetch her home now, I can. I know that she'd rather be here, being with you, than researching something in a clunky old book or slaying something evil."

Apology and mulishness took turns on her pale, slightly thinner face. "I know she would." _But she doesn't get to choose her fate, anymore than I get to decide whether or not chemo makes me sick today._ But certain aspects that we can control... "I don't like having you do all this. All the time."

"Which is why I don't. I take my turn." He sat beside her, taking her hands. "All of us are happy to take a turn, at the store, searching for information, at the hospital. In terms of slaying, Spike patrols alone as needed."

"I know everyone does what they can, but-"

He held up a restraining hand. "But if I had my way, it'd be my turn every day, every time, with you." _We grow old and creaky together, you and I. You'll hold my arthritic hand one day. Bring me my bifocals._ He smiled slightly. "People who- erm- love each other do this sort of thing. Or so I'm given to understand."

_I haven't felt loved in such a long time. Six years, or was it more? Oh, Buffy loved me, but she shut me out so often, and parental love gives and gives. I never expected it to balance out. I didn't expect her to take her father's place- just stay in her own, not go running off, into the night, into trouble. Making me feel so alone. _

Her silence worried him. The dosages were higher, building slowly, as the doctors saw what she could tolerate, developed her program. Soon they'd level out, and the treatment regiment would stay the same. Only Giles wondered, as he watched her wincing in pain and seeming dazed at times, if her strength was a downfall. Would they push her body to the limits, was it cracking already? Was it the disease or the cure? The future he'd been shown and it's far more ghastly alternate loomed in front of him when he watched her staring through him.

He touched her arm softly. "Joyce? Darling, why don't you head up for a rest?"

"I was thinking." Joyce mused, as if she hadn't heard him. "We haven't been a couple for very long."

He was puzzled. "No, we haven't."

"You do so much."

_You're my wife. Not now. But soon._ He blinked away the darker future, and focused on the life he believed in, would fight for. _I promised you my love, in sickness and in health. It's not my fault if sickness got a head start_. "I do very little." Giles murmured. "Compared to what I would like to do."

"Compared to what others have done..." Joyce gave him a wry smile and a roll of her eyes.

"Don't compare."

"Even if you come out ahead?"

Well." He preened for a moment. "Perhaps a bit."

They shared a smile. Hers faded quickly. "Don't let yourself get burnt out, Rupert."

"I won't."

"I know, but- well, tough times put strain on relationships. I'm not some dewey eyed teenager with her first crush. People get stressed, people feel taken for granted, or like they need more than you're giving, and -"

"Would you like to compare him and I, Joyce?" Giles' smile was suddenly frosty, not directed at her, but at the person who had abandoned her during the first true trouble they'd known, the worry and responsibility of a daughter seemingly going mad, lost to them, lost to bad influences. He leaned forward, eyes hard and a touch dangerous. "Let me tell you something. Real men _don't_ _leave_."

* * *

It came to her later, as the sun was setting, and night fell. The darkness was more comfortable for her eyes and the throbbing seemed to ease. Resting on crisp sheets, starting the day over as it ended, staring at a the dozing man beside her.

Maybe it was the sudden sympathy for someone else who had to avoid the daylight that made everything click in her mind. Or maybe it was the painkillers.

_Real men don't leave. _

_ Angel left because I asked him to. The first decent thing he did. Decent to me._

_ Riley left. He can fight monsters and defend the government, but he can't stay through the summer?_

_ Real men don't leave._

Her sleepy mind swirled and replayed a hushed conversation held in a tiny kitchen.

_ "You're not a man. You're a-"_

_ "Vampire. Don't deserve her love. Not a man."_

_ Not a real man._

_"She an' I have a deal where neither of us leaves, an' that's what I plan on stickin' to... Don't plan on lettin' anything separate us."_

_ But he won't leave._

"Rupert?" Joyce asked urgently.

"Items on the back counter are not for sale!" Giles sat up in confusion, clutching for glasses that weren't on his face.

"What is Spike?" Joyce gave him a somewhat dilated-stare.

"Spike? Dearest, have you taken your medication ?"

"Do you think he's real?"

Giles rubbed his head. "Does this have something to do with that existentialist paper Buffy had to write? Because I already lent her my guide to modern philosophers."

"He won't leave. He's not really a man. But he seems... real." Joyce slowly sank back down, hating the way the room blurred at the edges.

Ah. Giles thought he understood. "Spike is much more than meets the eye."

"He can be so nice." Joyce sleepily mumbled.

"Hrm." Giles looked comically uncomfortable at that statement.

"I hate vampires."

"Ah, yes, that is a valid-"

"Buffy hates vampires."

"Passionately."

"Spike is something else." Joyce wearily closed her eyes.

Giles gently laid a hand over her forehead. Burning up. He hastily got to his feet, buttoning up his shirt as he continued to listen to her drifting voice.

"Do you think he'll leave?"

Giles hesitated. "No." _I don't just think it. I_ know_ he won't._ "No, I don't think he will."

"Then that makes him real." Joyce opened her eyes again. "Rupert, my head is swimming."

"I'm not surprised. Your white blood cell count is surging, fighting off intruding cells, repairing-"

"Rupert." Joyce sat up abruptly, slightly green. "Excuse me."

She stumbled out of the room and across the hall. Over the sounds of gagging, she heard footsteps approach, the door knob turn halfway, then stop. Footsteps retreated. She didn't really want to be seen like this anyway.

She didn't expect him to be behind her suddenly, with a respectful little cough. Water ran. A cold cloth on the back of her neck. A soothing little humming sound.

He didn't say anything. He knew not to call attention to the weakness. But he wanted to be there, to be close.

Real men don't leave.

In the midst of the pain and the fever, Joyce was visited by the chilling thought that she wouldn't be around forever, and perhaps that time was coming sooner rather than later.

"I'm glad to know there are men like you." She finally gasped, sitting back when the bout was over.

He smiled slightly. He knew who she meant.

* * *

Spike asked the demon he was shaking down the same question he asked all of them now. "You know anything about monks?"

"What?"

"You know what I mean!" He shook him threateningly by the throat.

"Monks? Priest people? But- from you know- olden times? Aren't they like, extinct?"

"No one fakes that much stupid." He growled despairingly, and twisted the head cleanly, until the vampire's spine snapped, then imploded. "God, Slayer, just for once I'd like to kill something with brains."

"Your people turn 'em, not mine." Buffy sat on the dumpster, kicking her feet restlessly.

"Yeah..." Spike wiped his hands off and spat in the ash. "Prey on the weak and the stupid. In other words, California teenagers. Not me though. Liked a challenge."

"You liked to make messes." Buffy swung herself down. "That's seventeen stupid, clueless looks in a two weeks. If they know something, they're not talking."

"I'm usually pretty good on figuring out when they're lyin', Slayer." He slid easily beside her, leather coat to suede, two hunters at ease in the dark. "Lot longer on the job."

Buffy sighed. "Will was researching when I left. No dice. Of course, it'd be easier if we could tell her what was really going on. She might be able to look for what we're _actually_ looking for."

"Which would be?"

"Good point."

He sighed. "Can't have it all." Spike steered them down another alley. "We haven't hit the warehouse district in a couple."

Buffy groaned. "But there's no 'big bad' right now, Spike. We've been doing this for two hours and we've covered half the town. Evil's a little thin on the ground- and I am _not_ complaining." Buffy rested her head on his shoulder. "When there's real life crap, the less slayer crap the better."

Spike nodded, and they walked a few paces in silence. "Have you seen her yet today?"

"You mean after the hospital? I stopped home. Giles said she was sleeping again." Buffy chewed her inner cheek for a minute. Sometimes if you didn't say it out loud, it didn't seem real. On the other hand if you didn't, it silently rattled around in your brain until you were driving yourself crazy. "He said she had a fever. And she was throwing up."

"I thought she did that on treatment days?"

"Only on some." Buffy started walking faster.

"Fever. Is that common?"

"Giles said it is sometimes. It's those 'flu-like symptoms'. That's from the chemo. The radiation makes her tired. And light headed, and dry mouthed, and then she can't keep fluids down on chemo days."

"When does this all stop?" Spike removed his arm from her shoulders, digging agitatedly in his coat pockets for smokes.

"Radiation stops in a few weeks. Chemo's longer."

"Hate to see her like that." Spike twitched a slim white cylinder into his mouth and lit it with slightly unsteady hands. "Dammit."

"I know." Buffy ran her hands through her hair distractedly. "It hasn't been that long, but it feels like forever."

"You don't know the half of it. Wait until it's months. Watchin' her get weaker an' weaker, paler... In pain all the time. She couldn't even breathe in sometimes when the coughin' got real b-" Spike realized he was muttering angrily away to no one. Buffy had stopped, several steps back, and stared, frozen. _Dammit._ "Oh, not that Joyce will! Oh, no, Joyce's gonna be fine, Slayer, I was just sayin' how it used to be. Back before they had all this scientific mojo."

"Back in your time." Buffy said slowly.

"Yeah. Round then." Spike said carelessly, and then impatiently motioned her forward. "You wanna use a little of that Slayer speed, Luv? I'm gettin' gray here, and that's no easy job."

Buffy joined him silently, moving at her normal speed, while he walked ahead, shouting back abrasive little comforts over his shoulder.

"She'll be fine! Your mum is gonna be fine. You can look right inside her effin' brain, see the damn thing shrinking down. Fever's nothing._ Nothin'_!"

"Yeah. Modern medicine." Buffy caught up to him easily, but he barely looked at her. "It's come a long way. You're right."

"Bloody right I'm right." He scowled.

More silent speed walking. _Outwardly_ silent. Inwardly, thoughts were loud and buzzing noisily.

_ Took Drusilla home to meet his family. He said it ended badly. The way he talks about his mother. The way he talks about illness, weaker, paler, months of it... _"Was it your mother?"

"What?" Spike whirled, flaring nostrils, and black leather swinging wide. "Slayer, stop -"

"Was she the one who was sick?" Buffy ignored his demand. He nodded tersely. "And when you went home to see her, with Drusilla..." Buffy swallowed. "She told you it'd be kinder? Or d-did you think it would be more merciful to just end- just end it?"

"Shut your- shut your mouth." Spike's arm flew back, and fell instantly. He wasn't mad at her. Not directly. He wanted to punch something, but not her. "I would never have taken her life. Unless I thought, unless I was clutchin' at straws, thought I could cure whatever hurt her. The way I was cured."

He looked so pained. Angry, miserable, lost, and he turned away from her in a mixture of fury and grief. "You should get home." He left her standing in confusion in the dark, hurrying away from questions he didn't want to answer.

* * *

_ He turned her. He didn't kill her. Well, yeah, he did, but not like- for good. Weirdness. _

_ But Angel and Giles always said when someone turns, they kill their families first. The demon does it, drives them to it. Because the demon wants to be in control of the human, and everything human about you needs to die. What would kill the humanity in someone faster than murdering their family? Killing everyone they loved?_

_ They would never turn them. It'd be too much of a reminder, and vampires have their human memories. Every day you see the face of your mother, and you remember being alive, being human._

She stopped walking dazedly behind him and began to take long, quick strides, determined to catch him.

_He wanted to save her. He wanted her to live, not die._

_ But Spike is special, Tara said that from the first time she read him. Human side was in control whenever he wanted it to be. _

_ Maybe his mom wasn't so lucky. _

_ What would it be like to see the thing you wanted to save turning into something so dark, so demonic? _

A flash of Angel's face, replaced with Angelus' sneer. Maybe there wasn't anything worse that watching your lover turn evil, but if there could be something tied for first in the "things going horribly wrong, monsters in people you love" category? Spike and losing his mother had the title all sewn up.

Buffy shivered and wanted his unique warmth. She didn't need to think anymore. She could figure out how that story ended, even without one more word from him.

* * *

_If I walk fast enough, I won't hear her stupid little voice. Asking me. The horrified tones. The accusation. The sudden disgust._

_ Soddin' soul._ He scratched his chest once, fancied he felt it sting his fingers.

He knew he was lying to himself. This pain had always felt sharp and fresh, no matter how many decades old the memory was. The reason it stung so bad this time was because someone else knew about it. Someone who cared.

_She'll figure it out, already has. Oh, she hides a lot under the little airhead exterior. _

_ I know she loves me. Won't leave me. Question is- what's she gonna _think_ of me? Will she look at me the same?_

Her hand slid into his smoothly. He jumped and swore under his breath. Buffy smiled slightly. _The only one in the world who can get the drop on him. Good thing I'm on his side. _Her fingers squeezed his palm, and his hand captured hers tightly in response. "You know I'm as fast as you."

_Faster._ He merely nodded and exhaled the chill night air.

"It's nice to have someone who gets what I'm going through." Buffy whispered.

He didn't know it was possible to love her more, until that second.

Buffy found herself engulfed in his arms and his kisses. "It's okay, Spike."

"No. It's not." He corrected thickly. "But this is."

* * *

One figure crept into the house, turned off the one remaining light left burning, and looked half-grateful and half-regretful to find the other occupant or occupants had already gone to bed.

Buffy raced upstairs noiselessly, and passed her mother's room with a lingering glance, before her eyes became locked on what she could see dimly outlined against the glass of her window.

They needed to be there for Joyce. They needed to be there for each other. _No one needs to be alone in times like this. _The Chosen One, who had broken the rules and left the lonely path behind, brought both halves of her life together.

Spike wasn't even in the window before his hand cupped her cheek and pulled her to him again. Three minutes apart was too many right now. "Slayer-"

"Shhhh."

* * *

They were silent in the darkened room, with hungry kisses that made her gasp as her lungs cried for air. Clothes fell off and were pulled down, or torn off with such speed it sounded like a rustle of silk instead of the tearing of fabric.

_I love you_. He pressed his mouth against the apex of her cleavage, let her feel the words, since she couldn't hear them.

"Show me." She whispered, pulling at his shoulders, pulling him up and in, fast and fluidly.

He moved into her hard, but noiselessly, the rising of her ribcage and the biting of her lip the only indication of how much she wanted to cry out. He let out a soft grunt and tangled one hand in her hair, the other up under her shoulder.

Her legs found their way through his, and over, up across hips as her arms laced over his back and her nails sank into his skin possessively.

_She didn't change on me. She didn't leave. She didn't even ask._ "I will never love you more than I do right now." Spike's voice curled inside her ear.

"Nothing you do will ever make me love you less." Buffy replied.

_To be continued..._


	20. Part XIX

** Unknown **

**By Sweetprincipale**

_This is set in my non-canon, but canon-esque series following Uncontrollable and Unmentionable. If you haven't read those first, please do, or this won't read nearly as well or make much sense. Unknown begins a few weeks after the end of Unmentionable, around the beginning of season five._

_Author's Note: A short scene, but I felt like it needed it's own chapter, and wouldn't mesh well with any other scenes without detracting from each other._

_Dedicated to: ginar369, Alexiarrose, omslagspapper, Dlillith21, Sirius120, Jackiemack916, Jewel74, Illusera, cavemenftw, rosalea12, kse93, skeezixx, Juggling, Annomonk, DidiSummers, Rachel, Juggler, Nonnikie, arlenedemalk, spapad, Mike13z50, and the anonymous guest reviewers who I can't reply to personally and thank. Your support means so much to me! Thank you. I hope my story is thanks enough for the kindness that you show me._

_Direct Quotes are obviously not mine, but belong to the fabulously talented and creative people who wrote them. In this case, some of season five's dialogue will be used. _

_**Disclaimer: Nothing of Buffy belongs to me, except my sincere admiration. However, this story is all mine.**_

**Part XIX**

Giles felt around blindly, searching for whatever was making that sound. A horrible sound, like a strangling cough. A choking noise. His eyes opened slowly. The pillow beside him was empty. Giles lifted his head and sleepily ran his hand over the place that should've been filled. Slightly damp. _Her fever's broken. She must feel a bit better. _Please _let her feel better. _

The horrid sound came again, more clearly this time, now that he was awake. "Joyce." He sat up hurriedly.

* * *

"Mom!" Buffy slid from Spike's arms, going from sound asleep to completely awake and wide eyed in under a second.

"Mum?" Spike mumbled heavily, and reached for his living blanket.

"Shh." Buffy picked up her clothes from the floor and dropped them just as quickly. "Vampired." She muttered angrily at the shredded shirt. She turned and frantically grabbed the first thing she could reach from her dresser drawers.

"What's goin' on?" Spike began to scoot to the edge of the bed.

"Mom's sick. Can't you hear-"

A loud heaving, gagging sound erupted, followed by a low moan. "Bloody hell." Spike sat up completely, pushing his feet to the floor.

"No, stay put, Mom'll flip if she sees you're here. You better get going, or just hang out in here- or something." Buffy hissed, too rushed to worry about the details. She flung open the door and dashed into the hall.

Just in time to collide with someone else.

"Buffy!" Giles yelped and tugged on his bathrobe belt with a spasm of shyness, cinching it more firmly closed.

Buffy stared open mouthed for a second and fumbled for the doorknob behind her, trying to shield Spike.

"Buffy?" A feeble sounding voice called down the corridor. "Are you home? Could you come here a minute?"

"Mom!" She was off, heroic instincts aroused. _Mom's in trouble. Needs me. Spike and Giles can figure the rest out. Oh man. Giles in his Heff robe. Spike in his- in nothing. _She shook her head firmly._ Mom first, duh._

_ But maybe later I'll ask Willow to do a spell and zap my short term memory._

* * *

Giles eyed Spike uncomfortably. He must've been here most of the night. He glanced at the bare feet and the pool of clothing on the darkened floor. _Well. Not as if he hasn't- that is, they've... Before. _

_It just feels so _domestic.

Spike stared cooly back at the graying man, knotting and fumbling around nervously, not knowing what to say. The vampire pulled the sheet up around his hips, looking unblinkingly at the librarian.

* * *

Giles reached out slowly and closed the door. He paused a moment, undecided. Go to Joyce and Buffy, or go back to bed, ease some of his exhaustion?

_They're no way I could possibly sleep. _

_ Joyce wants her daughter there. Buffy wants so much to be there for mother so much, and this is one of the few times in recent years when doing so won't put Joyce in danger._

He couldn't sleep, but he wouldn't interfere right now.

_Four in the bally morning._ He shuffled back into the bedroom and sat on the bed, wondering whether to get himself dressed and be useful, or sink back against the pillows and torture himself with thoughts of what ifs, try to work his overwrought brain some more, coerce it into sleep.

* * *

Spike pulled on his jeans. His shirt hadn't survived Buffy's desperate clinging of a few hours ago. "Bugger it." He'd go without the shirt for now, wear his coat home. But he wasn't going home yet.

* * *

Buffy tapped on the bedroom door.

"Come in! Oh, no, shall I come out-"

Buffy poked her head cautiously around the side. Seeing her Watcher was decent, she pushed the door open completely, revealing she was alone. "Mom's not ready to lay down again."

"Oh, no, I should imagine she - she needs -" Giles paused. He thought rest was the obvious answer. "I'm afraid I'm still learning how to deal with non-magical maladies."

Buffy sighed and nodded as she slid into the room, ignoring the man in it, eyes fixed firmly on the closet. "I think you remember me having the same problem, right?" Giles had the good grace to cough and say nothing more specific. Buffy hunted through the hangers until she found something soft and comfortable. "Yeah, well, whatever we're used to, or think she ought to do, she says she can't lie down yet, and she needs clean clothes, after she gets out of the shower. She says her stomach feels like it's turning inside out. I'm going to hang out up here in case she needs me."

"I'd be happy to relieve you." Giles offered eagerly.

"I know you're part of her life, but _no one _wants their boyfriend to see them like this." Buffy chuckled bitterly.

"Maybe someone ought to tell you silly women that the boyfriends don't really care." Giles huffed, but he deferred.

Buffy turned and gave him a quizzical smile. "I thought you'd come over all tweedy and faint at the sight of-of 'bodily fluids'."

"I'm an Englishman. We simply repress and carry on." He smiled back stiffly.

Buffy clutched the bundle of clothes tightly to her chest, instead of hugging him. "I'm glad you're helping her get through it."

"Any time." _For all time_.

* * *

"She okay?" Spike asked softly, head protruding from Buffy's bedroom door.

Buffy paused as she heard the shower begin to run, then shrugged helplessly as she answered. "Not so much. She's done being sick though. For now. She says she's thirsty, but she doesn't think she can keep anything down. I should go get her something."

"You sit up here with her. Be on call." Spike contradicted.

"I will, but I should-"

"I'll make her some tea. I can do that much." Spike stepped out into the hall with a furtive look. "She'll never even see me. I'll pop it on a tray an' you take it in. You do your 'blurry with speed' moves, Slayer. I bet you can convince her you were in two places at once." Spike gave her a wink and pressed a kiss on her forehead. "Go be with your mum." He urged softly. "It's important."

A whole slew of silent thoughts and unspoken words passed between them, with just a single look. "Thanks, Baby." Buffy kissed him back quickly and went to deliver the clothes. Spike nodded after her and sauntered like a shadow down the stairs.

* * *

Giles paused, his hand on the door frame, preparing to step into the hall, stopped short by the overheard conversation.

"My goodness." Giles smiled to himself in a bemused way. "Things are changing." _This is how it starts. Maybe this is why things happen._

He knew they ended up family. He saw the images, the Christmas mornings, the movie nights, the wedding days. _But this is how it begins. How we begin to change from people who work together because something ancient says we must, to people who choose to be together, to how- imponderable as it is- we become family._

Giles lost his smile, visited by flashes of Tara's angry father, his narrow, putrid view of what a family was- something to bind and control. _No. That's blood, guilt, and threats. My family will be nothing like that, no matter how rocky its beginnings. It's going to be beautiful. It is beautiful. _

Faith in the future restored and bolstered, Giles, now dressed, began to march purposefully down the hall, thoughts of the last few days in his mind. The triumphs, the good moments.

_Joyce trusting me. Asleep beside me._

_ Tara's party, all of dancing, all of us around that table..._

_ All of us in that shop. Maybe it wasn't a moment of joy, but it was a moment of strength. They've all grown so much from those awkward children I first met. Even Spike has changed. Two months ago he'd have ripped Maclay's throat out in a manic rage, not simply picked him up and tossed him... out the door...onto the ground... like he was a rag doll._

Giles missed a step and clattered down the last three stairs with a violent curse.

_He has a soul. He wouldn't have hurt him. _

_ No, and he_ couldn't _have hurt him. Not if he was chipped. _

_He isn't chipped. Dear Lord._ Giles stopped standing shock and pushed himself forward with a brisk shake of his head. His jaw set. _The safety valve is gone. And Spike may have a soul, but he's never been one given to restraint._

* * *

"That was you and your less than graceful entrance, then?" Spike didn't turn around as Giles stormed into the kitchen. "For a minute I worried Joyce had come over dizzy in the shower. She had dizzy spells when this all started, didn't she?"

Giles stared at the moon white figure, making himself at home, slouching against the counter in nothing but jeans. Thoughts of family harmony warred with the fact that this was no longer a "defanged" predator. "Yes, she did. Spike-"

"Just boiled." Spike poured hot water into a mug and dunked the tea bag in it with a disgusted sneer. "Think we can talk them into gettin' some loose leaf so we can get a proper cuppa?"

"I've been meaning to ask about that." Giles winced at the soggy mass in the bag as Spike steeped it. He shook himself again and started over, "Spike-"

"I hope that doesn't make her worse." Spike turned and faced him, a small tray in his hands, a steaming cup, a plate with a half dozen shortbread cookies and some crackers. "Haven't had a stomach that works in so long... I dunno." He began to inch past Giles, but the other man's hands closed around the front edge of the tray.

"I'll take it up." Giles said hastily. Spike frowned. "I'll give it to Buffy. Joyce wouldn't be entirely pleased if she knew you were here, now would she?" He quirked one elegant eyebrow.

"Not exactly." Spike admitted with a wry grin, and let go of the tray. "Ta, Rupes."

"Ah. Thank you for seeing to this." Giles paused uncertainly. "I'll take this to her, but then- then I'd like a word with you. Can you stay for a few minutes?"

"It's not light yet." Spike shrugged. "But I know no one's sleepin' after this. I'm gonna stay down here. Make Slayer some eggs an' such." Spike avoided his eyes, trying to look indifferent, as if making breakfast and sickbed trays were perfectly normal activities for a badass like him. As if he took it lightly that the woman he loved was falling apart half the time. "Buffy's off her food as well, all the worry."

"Yes." Giles nodded heavily. "All of them ..."

"When one falls, all fall. It's her only weakness, that heart of hers." Spike smiled in the dark, thinking about his girl, his amazing other half. "Her greatest strength too."

"I'll let her know breakfast is served." Giles turned away, leaving the vampire smiling to himself, absently humming as he started to get things out of the fridge.

* * *

"What'd you want to talk about?" Spike's voice startled him as he reached the top of the stairs. Giles juggled the tray for a moment with a silent gasp.

"What?" He demanded, turning.

Spike looked up at him from the bottom of the steps, a carton of eggs in hand. "You said you wanted to talk." His voice became conspiratorial. "Is it somethin' about the - new clockworks?" He tapped the space above his heart.

"Erm. No. No, I just realized, I answered the question I had."

"Right then."

Giles watched him go, wise eyes staring, but no longer wary. _Well. Love is a far more effective protection anyway. One doesn't know what a person is capable of- until they see the person motivated by love._

* * *

To be continued...


	21. Part XX

** Unknown **

**By Sweetprincipale**

_This is set in my non-canon, but canon-esque series following Uncontrollable and Unmentionable. If you haven't read those first, please do, or this won't read nearly as well or make much sense. Unknown begins a few weeks after the end of Unmentionable, around the beginning of season five._

_Author's Notes: I am seriously recommending everyone go back and re-read, or just skim, from Part XV or at the very least Part XVIII. This chapter is __**very plot heavy,**__ and our Sunnydale cast is not featured here until the very end. Finally, both strands of plot come together in the next chapter! _

_Dedicated to: ginar369, Alexiarrose, omslagspapper, Dlillith21, Sirius120, Jackiemack916, Jewel74, kse93, skeezixx, DidiSummers, Rachel, Kerry220, Tawny, Redglade, TessLouise, and the anonymous guest reviewers who I can't reply to personally and thank. I thank each of you so much for all of your support._

_Direct Quotes are obviously not mine, but belong to the fabulously talented and creative people who wrote them. In this case, some of season five's dialogue will be used. _

_**Disclaimer: Nothing of Buffy belongs to me, except my sincere admiration. However, this story is all mine.**_

**Part XX**

_Sunset, Italy..._

"Find the Guardians of the Key-" a hazy red glare appeared over a small splotch of the Pacific Coast, and then shifted into three bright red dots as the chant continued, "the Brotherhood of Guardians, point us to them. The Abbot, and his two most trusted brothers... find them... mark them..."

"Hurry, she's waking." Jinx looked between the dropping ball of fire in the sky and the masculine form rippling, thinning, becoming more feminine.

"They haven't moved. Thank her Most Ancient Self." The priest doused his scrying fire. "But who knows how long that good luck may hold."

"We'll go in as soon as she wakes." Jinx supported Glory's head with a look of soppy adoration.

Her almond eyes opened suddenly. "I'm awake. And I'm _so_ ready for this. Time to catch the little rats returning to the hole."

* * *

All the order had gathered in the chapel of the monastery, high on the hill, for the beginning of matins. Prayers rippled and flowed as they took seats in the wooden pews and prayer benches.

There was a moment of unaccountable stillness, when the more perceptive among the order suddenly seemed to sense something was not quite right.

"Something's coming." One of the monks stopped praying and spoke out of turn, half-rising from his seat.

"Something's _here_." One of his fellow brethren shut his prayer book and looked back towards the ancient oak doors. An unseen force suddenly slammed into the building. Men gasped, the walls pulsed, but the occupants were safe.

For the moment.

* * *

"There are walls of protection around them, around this place." One of the mages informed her as they approached the monastery, cloaked in his own spells.

"Then let me bring them down." Glory rubbed her palms together.

No one advised caution, or tried to hold her back from using her powers this time. This was too important, they were too close to victory.

"That's right. Walls come tumbling down." Glory ran her nails through the strangely solid air that acted as some invisible barrier around the monastery, protecting it from evil forces.

* * *

Monks scrambled, prayers and chants were cried, saints invoked- but there wasn't enough time. It only takes one little crack to start breaking the mightiest foundations.

That's all Glory could manage, even with all her powers, a single fracture. It weakened her almost to unconsciousness. She tore apart the mystical fabric, a hand through, then a shoulder, until she squeezed her entire body through with a pained, triumphant wail. Once she was past the barrier, she placed both hands to her head, eyes tight shut, and spewed out blue sparks that broke the rest of the walls down. Easier to break something from the inside out, instead of invading it and pushing in.

At least the first part was done. They were inside. And just a few steps from knowing where her Key was.

She hadn't realized no one there could tell her.

* * *

"Wow. Must've been a sale." Glory faced down rows of humans, all in brown robes, all fumbling with heavy wooden beads at their waists or throats.

"You must've shopped it yourself." The new abbot said, showing no outward sign of fear, gesturing to all her robed minions.

Glory blinked. "I didn't think holy men had senses of humor."

"We have a lot of things you don't give us credit for." He said hoarsely, wishing desperately, praying desperately, that there would be a way out for his brothers, now his new flock. _Lord, please, you can't let me be the first leader of the Guardians in centuries to fail. Not after just a few days. If you can't save me, that's fine, but get them out of here._

"I only want one thing from you. I'll tell you what- if you give it to me now, I'll even let most of you leave, alive. Not like it'll matter much, 'cause once I reclaim my rightful place, this world is just going to be one big ball of hellfire. But you'll have a little more time."

No one moved, no one even looked slightly hopeful at the prospect. "You guys play hard ball. I can torture the information out of you. One at a time. I haven't done that in a long time, and Hell knows, I need to get back in practice." Still silent, though she could see some faces paled further, cold sweat began to make its way from brows to cheeks, throats moved with constricted swallows. "Come on! Chop chop!" Glory strode forward looking for her first victim. "Someone talks, or _everyone_ dies."

He played for time. "What is it you think we have?" He whispered.

"_MY KEY_!" Glory pushed the shoulders of two monks and sent them toppling, marching up to the abbot, though she at the time thought he was just a particularly mouthy little monk. She grabbed him around the throat, lifting him up. "Where is it? You have it! You've had it for thousands of years, and I know you hid it! Now give it to me!"

"I- never- saw it." He answered with complete truthfulness. "I swear on the altar stone, that has been blessed by every leader of this order since it began- I swear on this _altar stone_- that I have never seen your Key."

"And I also swear, as one of the Fratres Superior of this order, that he has never seen it. Nor have I." A man stepped forward suddenly, eyes flickering at the Abbot's words.

There was a murmur from Glory's priests, and a cry of alarm that they couldn't muffle. It left the monks just enough time to whisper something, point to something furtively, hands down low where they couldn't be seen.

Glory loosened her hold slightly. She wouldn't freely admit it, but the drain on her power was close to causing her to revert into her "more human" form. And that would be fatal. Monks could kill a human, and maybe she'd underestimated them. Maybe the good guys would kill her "innocent brother", if that would give them the chance to stop her.

"Why are you making all that noise?" She demanded wrathfully. "Don't you know how much concentration it takes to break every single bone in a human body and still keep people focused on the questions?" Her thumb indented the helpless monk's throat and he felt the world slipping into blackness.

"But- that is not right. _This_ is not right." The elder priest approached hastily, peering at the face of the second man who'd spoken to her. "That is not one of the Fratres Superior for this generation! There are only two, and I know their faces well. I have had my skirmishes with them before, searching for the spells to transform you, to bring you to mortal form. I know the Abbot." He pushed past the monks, yanking brown hoods back, scanning faces.

"What do you mean?" Glory trained wild, furious eyes on him as he walked past the monks.

"I- don't see the real Abbot, or either of the Fratres Superior." He admitted nervously.

"I assure you." Glory turned as she heard a wheezing voice hit her ear. "I am the Abbot. The _new _one."

Glory didn't give into many of the human emotions, aside from the fun ones like anger and malice, but now she felt shock and despair strike her. "What?" Her unnaturally strong fingers weakened. She went so far as to drop the man, and stand, shaking above him. "It doesn't matter. Whoever runs this little brown rat pack knew about my Key, knows where it is, and can give it to me."

"Not if they died and took the secret with them." He was prepared to do the same, smiling with a strange sort of peace as he spoke to the thing he'd been fighting all his life. "Which I know they did. Because all of us here would do the same."

"You better get ready to do just that." Glory spat, fists balled. "But you're second on the list. You- 'chief' priest." Fingers unfurled and jerked the air around her, dragging her cowering, bewildered priest to her side.

"Your Magnificence-"

"Shhhhh." Glory pressed a sharp nail to his cracked, wizened lips. "I thought you said you found them. Now you say these people- are _not them_. Which is it?"

"Well, technically, oh Most Understanding and Patient One, they are."

"You just said they weren't!"

"The Abbot and the two most trusted brothers _are _here. They've replaced the others. I never knew their true names, Mighty Nameless Being, only their titles! You well know that we are from the time of the nameless ones, only known by what we are called-"

"Stop ranting and answer me. Can't they just be- retired? Hiding out somewhere?Maybe right here?" She looked at the vaulted ceilings and through the stained glass to the grounds beyond, steeples, bell towers, and dormitories. "Search the basements, the attics, every inch of this place! All these little monastery hidey-holes!" Glory waved a hand at her minions, who began to scatter.

One of the younger priests timidly dared to halt their exit. "Majesty- the only way that titles are passed in this order is through- hm- death."

"So the only three people in the world who might've known where my Key is- are _dead_?" Glory now fixed two of her three unholy men with flaming eyes.

"Perhaps not. These men may know- we could surely find out, even if they have the vaguest hint of an idea. You can crack minds, Goddess, and see the secrets within, surely?"

"I can suck minds, not read them." Glory informed him harshly. "Although when people are motivated by pain, they remember a lot of little details..."

"Don't you touch him. He was telling the truth!" There was a voice in the back of the congregation, young and trembling.

"Byron, silence!" The Abbot tried to sit up, only to find Glory's heel poking sharply into his chest.

"They- the Holy Father and Mathias and Vincenzo- they died. They died hiding it- and you'll never find it, you'll never-"

"Close. Your. Mouth!" Glory snapped her fingers and the young man, hardly more than a boy, found himself on the end of blast of blue flame. Flesh seared and silenced a scream as his mouth was burnt into a jagged red line.

The Abbot was on his feet, heel or no heel, gasping in horror. "Get him out of here!" He dared to push the hellbeast in human form. It didn't have much of an impact, aside from pissing her off.

"You shouldn't have done that." Glory looked at him in shock. "For one thing, you're just not worthy. For another-" She snapped her fingers again, and another scream rang out, "when I'm mad- humans get hurt."

"We may have something that can hurt you, too." He looked past her, to where two of his brethren were dragging out an injured, burnt pair. He found the eyes of the two most trusted. One was still in the grip of a demonic priest, and the other was standing by the altar, hands resting innocently atop it. They nodded imperceptibly. _Truly we picked well. Most trusted indeed. _

"Nothing from this world can hurt me." Glory bluffed, although she felt pretty confident these guys didn't have anything stronger than holy water which didn't affect someone as strong as her.

"Maybe not. We'll see."

"NOW!" A voice rang out, something with the smell of incense and yellowish smoke shot through the air, and one figure powered through the clamor, a thick slab of stone high above his head.

"Glorificus!" Jinx dared to use her name, overwhelmed as he realized what was about to happen. She didn't seem to hear him.

The altar stone smashed into the back of her skull, cracked in half, and fell to the sides with a burst of green and gold light. She fell under it. The light filled the room, something pure and holy in every beam. Many of her minions clutched their eyes and staggered, allowing the monks to make a charge against them.

"Get up, Thomas!" Gregori, hands now empty, looked around anxiously and hurriedly pulled his old friend out from under the unconscious deposed goddess. "I mean, Holy Father."

"You saved my life. All our lives. You can call me what you want." The new abbot moved quickly, pushing past screeching, wailing minions, herding his brothers towards the doors. "Home from home, Brothers! Home from home!" The obscure cry meant nothing to Glory's henchmen, but evoked nods from the monks.

The demons fought, but men of God can also be men of valor. They fought back. Most escaped.

"We'll be back." Their shepherd comforted as the remains of his order stumbled out into the Italian hillside, coughing through smoke, afraid to stop moving, afraid to leave. "We'll stay with other brothers in our cause. We'll be cloaked and we'll go in three groups, to protect our hosts and present the least burden. Antony, Gregori, you'll each take a group, I'll take one as well."

"I'll take the wounded, and those skilled in the healing arts!" Antony started sorting them into a triad as they moved along.

"Get to the top of the next hill so we can see them approaching if they follow us. Once we're there, we'll pray and depart. But we'll keep in touch. We'll be home soon. I promise. All of us, together again soon."

* * *

Her henchman moved around her, a puzzled, many-voiced throng.

"What happened?"

"That was no ordinary stone."

"How could you let them escape!?"

"How could you have made such a foolish error?"

"Glory? Glory!"

One of the mages put the two halves of the altar stone together and examined it. A large round crater, missing many shards of stone was at the center, with a smaller, neat oval just above it. "What did he say?"

"Who?" Jinx cradled Glory's head in his lap, fanning her anxiously.

"The man who dared to oppose her. Who said he swore on the altar stone..." The mage was scanning the floor now, both pieces held thoughtfully in his hands.

"We will bathe in his blood." One of her more vicious supporters vowed.

"He's a smart one. He was able to tip them off." The mage continued. "Ah-ha." He stooped and picked up the remains of a bright beryl. "The actual altar_ stone_. Imbedded here." He carefully dropped the broken jewel into the crevice it had originally come from. "What did he say? Every monk in the order was sworn in on this?"

"Something like that." One priest suddenly showed some signs of comprehension. "Centuries of holy power, God-honoring promises and oaths... a thousand holy binding rituals- unleashed at once."

Horrified looks dawned on all faces.

The mage tried to keep them all calm.

"She'll sleep for a little while. That can't_ truly_ hurt her. Simply stun her for a time." The mage lifted one of her eyelids. The white of her eye showed, and didn't quiver, but her chest rose and fell. "I can't waken her from this. I imagine at sunrise she'll come to with the transformation."

"They won't be be back anytime soon. Let's make her as comfortable as we can."

* * *

The minions took her towards the side entrance, behind the pulpit and now broken altar. "Take her across the grounds, to the dormitories. Find a bed and some pillows for her while we bring in her own, more befitting furnishings." Jinx ordered.

"Search everywhere, for any clues, any survivors." Another voice followed.

"They may have lied. They may have worked some powerful enchantment or other to allow the titles to have passed without death. We need to see if we can find any information about the whereabouts of the last abbot, any clues to where they went, or where they may be hiding." One of the priests suggested.

"I don't think they were lying, Sir." A gloomy voice pointed out as they trailed through the monastery's gardens and then through a plot of land littered with simple white stones. Headstones.

"Three graves. New. No stones yet. Fresh earth."

"The abbot and his assistants."

"We can dig them up. I've seen their faces before. I wonder if the mages have some spell they can perform to trace the bodies back to the point where they perished."

"You may not need to ask them to do anything so complicated." One of the minions scrambled up the dark, sloping ground, brandishing part of a worn leather book. "This was in the altar, under the stone. I looked to see if there might be some words of the ritual, and I found this instead. It looks like the human tried to save some of it, but in his rush to attack her, he left some behind." He held it out to the priest.

"What is the significance of this? Names, cities, and numbers. Is it a code?"

"It's the list of the abbots of the order. Name, birth date, birthplace, death date, and-" he pointed to the last entry, in fresh ink, no more than a few weeks old, at the most, "place of death."

"California."

"I don't know if they might be throwing us off deliberately. Leaving it behind, putting in a false place..."

"There's no way they would have had time to create this, and no reason to lie here, they didn't know we were coming."

"Are there places of pure goodness in California?"

"There must be."

"California?"

"You're awake! Oh, rejoicing to the lowest depths, you're awake!" Glory's followers stopped in mid stride as her feeble voice was heard.

"What the hell happened? Did we get them?" She asked, eyes fluttering shut again.

"We will." Jinx assured. "We have a lead."

"That's good." Glory winced and her head lolled back again.

"Take her to the nearest bed! Quickly."

In her absence, minions muttered and paced. "California is a lead? It's an entire state!"

"It's better than the whole world."

"That's true. There are probably only a few spots to search within the state as well. That's something."

* * *

"Something struck my mind." Babel was rooting through a monk's cell, taking one side while his friend took the other.

"What?"

"They say the monks died in California. That they died hiding the Key, and so, if that's the case, perhaps the Key will be there."

"Everyone knows humans can't play with the primordial too long before it catches up with them. Transforming the Key, hiding it, running with it from place to place for months..."

"I know. Terribly taxing. Too taxing for ordinary mortals."

"What's your point?" The minion shook out book after book, yielding nothing.

"Do you remember when we were in that monastery in Tibet? Weeks ago now. I'd called Marta and she told me Dracula was dead."

"By the Slayer's hand, yes."

Babel paused, replaying the conversation in his mind.

_"She must be powerful. A very powerful force. For good. Do you think we should-"_

_ "No, she's still human. I'd hope the monks wouldn't underestimate Glorificus so much that they'd hide the Key with a single paltry human. Humans die all the time, very easily."_

_ "I guess you're right. Besides, Slayers live in the evil infested areas, areas where Glory would be strongest. The monks are stupid as all humans are but still quite crafty. I doubt they'd deliberately lead her to power."_

_ "Hm." _

_ "Unless that's what they want us to think."_

"Babel, I know what you're thinking, but-"

"She lives in California! She's a mighty force for good, and no ordinary human. Something primordial already lives inside her, she could withstand the presence of the Key far more easily than other mortals."

"She's in a terribly evil place. The Key wouldn't be easily concealed there. What could they do to take so much power and protect it from so many dark beings?"

Babel sighed. "I know. But still._" _His voice fell to a whisper."Should we tell them about the Hellmouth and the Slayer? Point it out?"

"We could never tell Glorificus that! No, she'll think we've been hiding something. You've seen what she can do when she's mad. I like my tongue in my mouth. If it's there, you can be sure she'll find it."

"But will she find it in time?"

* * *

Glory woke up in time to see the last stars fading from the sky. "Why am I in a room furnished in early burlap?" She demanded, trying to sit up. "Ow! And who wrecked my hair?"

"It's just a little- matted. From the blood." Jinx soothed. "I'll have it washed and brushed perfectly, first thing tonight, but I didn't want to disturb your recovery."

She frowned and gingerly rubbed the small knot on her scalp. Recovery. Meaning she'd been hurt. "How could they do that? Those wimpy little..."

"We can talk about it later. The mages understand it best. Now, it's almost dawn, and we'll try to persuade Ben to leave today, he-"

"Leave for where?" Glory's memories of waking last night were hazy.

"California. The monks charged with concealing the Key met their end in California. They must've gone through the Cave of Souls and arrived there, crossing dimensions within this plane. They may not even have had time to throughly conceal the Key before dying. It seems possible that's where the Key is, just waiting for you to find it." Jinx wheedled and explained in a soft voice.

Glory groaned, eyes closed. "California? Isn't that a big state?"

"Yes, but not as big as the whole world, Gracious and Practical One."

"We don't have much time..."

"A few months."

"Make my bratty little brother leave today, okay?"

"He was raised in America. I'm sure we can convince him." Jinx lied.

The sun rose, and the body before him transformed with a painful shiver.

* * *

"Oh! Oh man, what the hell did she do?" Ben scrambled up and out of the borrowed bed, looking around. Then he sat back down, hands clutching the back of head. "Ow! What the hell did she do to _me_?" He looked at the blood on the pillow and the ransacked shelves of Bibles, devotionals, holy objects, only half hidden by his sister's plush comforts that her slaves had set up to make her more "at home". "Did she kill someone? Oh my God, did she kill a priest or a nun?"

"No. Well, not _here_. She had a little scrape on the head, that's all." Jinx watched him carefully. "And it's best we leave, now quickly. Before they return." He bluffed.

"Why would I leave? _I _didn't trash their place. It's one of the few perks I have in this deal- a different face, so I don't have to pay for her crappy mistakes." Ben massaged his head and lied to himself. He'd end up paying for everything if she succeeded. Finally free from her- but living in hell. _Better than dying on earth?_

"Hm. Master Ben... Would you like to go back to the States? You've often said you wished you were in your home country- your credentials would be more readily accepted, you speak the language, you-"

Ben laughed bitterly, hands scraping back his floppy bangs, looking at the scabby creature with scoffing eyes. "What's in America? Another dead end? Someone else she wants to mind suck?"

Jinx's face hardened. "Once we narrow down the area- you could get a steady job. A day shift. The same each day, ministering to those sickly, inferior little humans you love so much."

It was tempting. So tempting. He might even get to see his friends one more time. Get a decent burger. New sneakers. Work in a clinic, maybe even a hospital, healing people...

But it could wait one more day, if it would delay her, just a little bit. He had some defiance left.

"Where are we now? Italy, still?"

"Yes, of course. The monastery."

"Well... you know what? I want some real pizza first. Yeah, and pasta. Maybe take a bike ride through some little Italian town."

"But Master Ben-"

"Hey! If she wins, are there still going to be picturesque villages to see? Brick-oven pizzas? Even bicycles?"

"There will be towns! They'll all _feel_ like ovens." Jinx answered honestly, though his eyes shifted away.

"That's what I thought." Ben kicked aside silk bags and leather cases, looking for his own scuffed bag of belongings. As he changed, he turned his back on Jinx. "Glory can wait for a day. I'm gonna enjoy this world before she destroys it." Once dressed, he pushed his way through minions who dared not physically restrain him, and made his way over the rocky hillside, down towards the distant town below.

* * *

"What did he say?" The priest asked, as if he couldn't figure it out.

"What he always says. We'll find him by night, and we'll move. We'll see California by next daybreak. Do you know where we should begin looking once we arrive?"

"The mages' scrying is not complete. We'll look for the beacons of goodness. Then we'll find them. Then we'll rip them apart until we find where it's hidden. It could be concealed in many places, but I'm sure once we're close, once we know what we're looking for- it'll be easy to spot."

* * *

_Sunnydale..._

"Yeah, Red? Be in for my shift a bit late, but in time for closing. Gotta finish something. Already told the Slayer, she knows. Cheery bye then." Spike smirked and hung up the phone.

He lit a fresh menthol, picked up a bottle of bourbon and shouted down the bar. "Oi! Willy! Put a pint of blood on my tab and don't try to be cute with the stalk of celery this time."

"Anything you say, Spike."

He shrugged his way past burly demons dressed in leather biker vests and chaps, bumping into them, some on purpose, some not.

"Watch it, vamp!" One snarled.

"I'll put my fist through that ugly hole you call a mouth if you're not careful." Spike sneered.

"Try it, Blondie."

"On second thought- I can't right now. I'm dealin' next hand, and I've got ten Persians and two twenties in my pot." He elbowed the beast in his bulky gut, and stubbed his cigarette out on his third eye before sidestepping him.

With a howl of pain, the monster shouted after him, "This isn't over!"

"Blow it out your arse." Spike made his way hastily to the back room where the poker table was set up.

" 'Bout time!" one of Spike's poker buddies griped.

"This is my last hand, alright? I got a fight waitin' and then I've got errands to run." _Pick up those art books for Tara. Pop Slayer's laundry back to her mum's place before I hit the gallery. Maybe I oughta ask Clem what he can do with a washer dryer for the crypt? Got a loo, why not a laundry room?_

"Deal already." A whining, many-horned demon prompted.

"Don't rush me, Trumpet Head." Spike lit up again as he stopped shuffling. "I gotta stop wastin' these things. Anyone trade me a pack of fags for a kitten?"

"I'll take that." Cats and packs of smokes were exchanged, and the door thudded open as their drinks arrived.

"Alright I've got two shots of bile, three beers, and pint of the red stuff for the vampire. It's the house blend, pig, cow, and just a hint of goat for that sacrificial taste." Willy set drinks down as he circled the table.

Spike sipped, vamping as he did. "Hm. I like it. Not as good as human, but it'll do." He licked his fangs and popped an ace into his sleeve. "Dealer takes one."

* * *

Three heavenly figures exchanged weary smiles. "I think we did well in choosing a hiding place. He's certainly not the most 'holy' place to look."

"No, but he's surely a force for good. Though that devilish streak..."

"He is what he is, and a mighty force for good is what he will be. Come along. We've watched him long enough, and now it's time for us to take our rest."

"But She still hunts him." One figure, always anxious in life, still retained some of that fear.

His mentor, in life and death, pulled him along, into the brightest of white lights. "He's in good hands. I do not know if the Hellbeast will find him in time, or not. I do know that if She does, She won't get him without a fight."

* * *

To be continued...


	22. Part XXI

** Unknown **

**By Sweetprincipale**

_This is set in my non-canon, but canon-esque series following Uncontrollable and Unmentionable. If you haven't read those first, please do, or this won't read nearly as well or make much sense. Unknown begins a few weeks after the end of Unmentionable, around the beginning of season five._

_Author's Notes: This is a "break in the action" chapter in my mind. If the pace feels different, maybe somewhat removed from the piece, don't worry, that's because things are going to pick up soon. The piece needed a break to show how things are, before things start to change..._

_Dedicated to: CavemenFTW, skeezixx, ginar369, Alexiarrose, MaireAilbhe, omslagspapper, Dlillith21, Sirius120, Jackiemack916, Alottalove, Annamonk, Synera, mike13z50, Jewel74, kse93, DidiSummers, Tawny, TessLouise, and KayanaM. _

_Direct Quotes are obviously not mine, but belong to the fabulously talented and creative people who wrote them. In this case, some of season five's dialogue will be used. _

_**Disclaimer: Nothing of Buffy belongs to me, except my sincere admiration. However, this story is all mine.**_

**Part XXI**

There is no routine, but it's becoming routine. Giles rolled over and smacked the alarm to silence quickly, before she could wake up. He rubbed his eyes, felt blindly for his glasses and hurriedly pulled on his robe, laying across the foot of the bed. No one should ever see such scars. He'd learned to keep his eyes above the neck when looking in the mirror. Only one had ever been shown, and she-

_Is just as vain._ He felt her roll, and the first thing she did was pull her soft pink silk wrap firmly onto her head. He caught the back of a bare scalp as his glasses found their way to his face. His lips twitched painfully before he could plant a smile on them. It was all gone now. Every beautiful wheat and whisky colored tress.

"Good morning, my angel." He kissed the back of her neck.

"Hey, Handsome." She managed a weary smile.

* * *

_Just another day in Sunnyhell. _Spike felt her scrambling across him, muttering, hunting in the covers. "What's it this time, Luv?"

"My bra!"

"Wear another one." He kept his eyes closed, sensing the daylight even though it was dark inside their grotto suite, save for a few hastily lit candles.

"You _ate_ my other one!" She sharply slapped his knee and he moved under the heavy quilt.

"Did no such thing. Maybe tore slightly, but eaten? Never."

"If you don't help me look, you and Dracula will be sharing shelf space." Buffy hissed.

Spike was up instantaneously. "Breakfast?"

"Pop tarts?"

"Not unless you want 'em cold or microwaved."

"Popcorn then." Buffy named the first microwavable food she could think of.

"Comin' up."

"Ooh! And my gummi bears!" Buffy was halfway under the bed now, voice muffled. "God, we need to vacuum!"

"Your bra's prob'ly in bathroom again. That's where your brush was last time."

She straightened back up in time to see naked calves climbing the ladder to the above ground part of their unusual home. "Yeah, but that's a brush, it belongs in there. This is totally different, it's clothing, it's- oh. There it is." Buffy grabbed it hastily off the edge of the sink.

"Bathroom?"

"Shut up, Spike!"

* * *

"Shhh. Willow. Wake up." Tara closed her textbook and giggled.

"Hmm?" Willow opened her eyes, then yelped softly. Bright green kitty eyes were centimeters from hers, as Miss Kitty stared curiously at the sleeping human.

"That's adorable." Tara clapped her hands as Willow moved the kitten off her chest.

"In a 'cute but might've peed my pants' sort of way." The redhead leaned over to her girlfriend and gave her a kiss on her bare shoulder. "Test today?"

"Last test before midterms. How can these weeks fly by so fast?"

"Busy." Willow murmured consolingly.

"Happy. Time flies when you're having fun." Tara smiled, then hastily put a hand to her mouth. "Oh! Th-that's so terrible of me to say. This has been so stressful and busy for everyone, and poor Joyce, and Buffy, and my- my birthday, I didn't mean-"

"Sweetie!" Willow took her hands firmly in her own, looking deeply into her lover's eyes, knowing exactly what she meant. "I'm happy, too."

* * *

"I read the entire auction catalog before you were out of the shower. It's my personal best." Anya poured Xander a cup of coffee, slid a fresh blueberry muffin and a plate of eggs in front of him as soon as he entered their sparsely furnished new apartment. "Here. You sit."

"Breakfast again? Wow, Ahn." Xander leaned over and gave her a big kiss on the cheek, and then sat, staring.

"Humans eat breakfast everyday. Some demons only eat once a year, or seven years, or some go longer. Of course, some eat continuously, like the amebic family of-"

"I just meant- wow. You spoil me." Xander pulled her into his lap, and prayed their single kitchen chair was up for the challenge.

Anya flushed happily. "I thought this is what couples did. Care for each other. Have sex. Provide food. Also gifts at pre-appointed times of the year."

"They do." _Just didn't ever think it would be me doing that stuff. _

_ How'd I end up so lucky?_

"Then eat." Anya encouraged.

He picked up his fork, then put it down. "I can hear Willow nagging about misogynistic tendencies of the female serving the male. Wow. She's good. The campus must be three miles over but I-"

"Willow can shut up. I know she's your best friend, but she has no right to say that stuff about me." Anya huffed. "I already ate a muffin and I'm a successful career woman, contributing to the American dream- capitalism and freedom to own a small business. Also- successful retired vengeance demon. If there's anyone who's not letting a guy push her around..." Anya got briskly off of his lap. "You have to get outside and do muscle bulging manual labor for eight hours, and I find that sexy."

_Rapid subject change... _"How does that-"

"No food means no energy means no work. No work means no sexy muscles and possible financial collapse."

"So this is all about...?"

"Sex and money."

"Ah." He poked at his eggs with a sudden lack of interest. "Sex and money. Now I hear _other _voices yelling at me."

"Did I forget to mention I would do it anyway? Because I love you very much?"

_Forget any other voices_.

Magically, they were the only two people in the world.

* * *

"The Mojave called this the White Land."

"Because of settlers?" Ben was gauging his timing carefully.

"Because the ground itself is infused with the life force and creation of millions of pure spirits." Jinx looked out over the desert, wondering if it was the magic, or a tick of the light, that made the sandy valley lost in the dunes glow so white. Not a soul was there. No humans for miles. Not a feeding friendly place, but at least it would keep Ben in check. Perhaps he'd let his rightful inhabitant take the wheel, so to speak.

"Wow. Not really Glory's kind of place." Ben snapped.

"But just the place for those miserable monks to hide the Key. Perfect. Truly." He stepped from the car in a sort of sickened wonder. "It's so barren, but there are wells of energy here. They Key could be in one, or disguised as one. Unlikely, of course, but the Key must be pure, and this _is_ a place of pure -" Jinx stopped speaking as his words were covered by a slamming door and revving engine. Cascades of sand shot out from under the wheels, and mowed over minions and mages. "Master Ben!"

"Have fun in the sand! I hope Glory know how to drive!" He honked the horn once and sped off towards civilization, spewing sand everywhere.

Jinx was livid. "Get in the other car and follow him!" He ordered belligerently. "Make sure he has that body back by sundown! Don't let him get dehydrated!" The nearest town was forty miles away. The scabby creature began to assess the damage caused by his queen's unruly vessel, and sighed long sufferingly. "Another day, another tantrum."

* * *

"Our expert consultants won't be here until later." Anya informed one couple apologetically. "We do have a curator from the British Museum here." They gasped appropriately. "But he'll be a minute."

* * *

"Yes, Buffy. No, Buffy. Yes... Yes? You look after your mother, Spike will come here, Well if you'd like to, I'm sure we can train-" Giles switched ears, and turned as Anya impatiently coughed. "One moment." He hissed.

"Paying customers!" Anya hissed back.

"Heavens. When's Tara coming?"

"She has a big test today!"

"Well, where's Willow?"

"Writing an equally big, pain-causing paper."

He sighed. "I'll be right there."

"Giles!" A tinny voice in his ear returned his attention to the phone. "I'm running out of quarters!" Buffy leaned nervously on the pay phone box. Hospitals made her permanently nervous. "Mom has another hour today, then I'll take her home."

"Why aren't you with her now?" Giles demanded.

"Because I'm calling you to remind you!"

"Remind me of what?"

"Aren't we helping Xander move stuff out of his parents' basement tonight?"

Giles groaned. "I suppose that's what you meant by training?"

"Hey, it's lifting and bending. And if Mr. Harris's team loses, we get to do ducking and covering." Buffy said bitterly.

Giles stiffened. "The sooner Xander's out of there the better. Funny, Anya didn't remind me."

Buffy had to smile. "Not really that weird. When Anya's at work, she's all salesgirl, all the time. But she's doing it for Mom, so that's okay."

"I think so as well. I'll see you this evening. Take care." Giles hung up after she said her goodbyes. He walked briskly out to the front, all tweed and dignity, and smiled. "May I help you?"

* * *

"Super types oughta handle this." Spike took one end of a recliner, and Buffy took the other.

Anya trailed after them with a lamp and a frown. "Don't drop that."

"We won't."

"Can't I just levitate the boxes?" Willow whined as Tara put a third one in her arms.

"Oh, is that too heavy?" Tara began to grab it off the stack.

"No." Willow admitted sulkily. "I just think levitating things is more fun."

"Hahahaha." Xander let out a fast, hoarse chuckle and took the three boxes away from his best friend. "You better save that magic for real emergencies." He stared into her green eyes a second too long. Nothing black and empty inside them. _Only a dream. Only a dream..._

"Do I have something in my teeth?" Willow took a step back.

"No! Oh, hey that's right, we have to provide beer and pizza. It's obligatory for all those providing moving assistance." Xander said with goofy factuality.

"Beer _so_ bad." Buffy muttered.

"I'll take one." Spike shrugged.

"You and Spike? Having a beer together? Please, do you want the world to end?" Willow teased, and everyone laughed. On the outside.

"Let's make it sodas, shall we? All of us have another busy day tomorrow." Giles solved the hanging silence with a forcedly bright suggestion.

"Every day, every night, it's all busy." Buffy sighed, and the sigh was echoed by the train of people standing on the basement stairs.

"On the other hand, it's not the kind of _busy_ we expected." Spike muttered, just loud enough for her to hear. She nodded hesitantly.

"Is there a research party after the moving party?" Tara asked brightly. "W-we could have cookies and - hm." _Cookies and milk? With a vampire and a Slayer. Lameness. _But no one seemed to think it was the slightest bit out of place. Giles merely consulted his watched and made a regretful noise.

"I suppose it's possible. But perhaps tomorrow night. I should get back to Joyce. Buffy, will you-"

"Slay-study. Pass midterms, kill bad guys." She shrugged complacently.

"I'll help with both." Spike volunteered, heaving open the back door, heading towards Xander's battered work truck.

"Hey! _I'm_ study gal." Willow pouted.

"Moving first!" Anya jiggled the lamp pointedly.

"Oh, yeah, my Mom had two chairs for your kitchen." Buffy helped put the chair on the truck bed.

"We can swing by there. Gotta pick up beer anyway. I mean, sodas." Xander pointed out.

* * *

The night rolled on, like any other night in their town, everything ordinary, a little something special, unusual, bad and good.

Giles watched them, coming together, parting ways to do their different tasks.

"I declare this house officially warmed." Xander put his soda can down and kissed Anya joyfully. "The last box is in! Well, except for the stuff in the attic." No one had wanted to venture up there. Mr. Harris was yelling drunkenly at the television and making threatening gestures to anyone who might obscure his view of the screen.

"This place looks pretty 'home like' without anything else." Buffy said hastily. "Who knew you had so much stuff." Buffy looked around in amazement.

"Some of it not worth keeping." Spike gingerly prodded a race car shaped pillow.

"Hey! Childhood treasures." Xander growled. "What did you have

"If this is a housewarming-slash-moving party, there has to be no fighting." Buffy told her lover and her best friend sternly.

"Never, ever gonna happen." The men chorused.

_It happens_. _There's a day. I don't know when it is, but there's a day when it happens._ Giles put down his drink and cleared his throat. "Well. Blessings on your home together. And now- I really should get home, er- back to Joyce."

"You didn't even-"

"It's fine." He shook Anya and Xander's hands heartily, hastily, waving and nodding his way out of the room, out of the small apartment.

Only then could he let himself smile. They couldn't see all the little flashes he had, all the little future moments he was secretly privy to. They'd live them one day, however. His smile gave birth to a single chuckle.

Xander and Spike had at least one night they weren't fighting. Blurry and confusing as his high speed peek at the future was, he only had snips of images, though sometimes they seemed to slow down and get clearer, if he concentrated in quiet.

God knows that's a rare commodity, Giles silently grumped.

From down apartment building's corridor came a cry of "Oi!" followed by "My carpet!"

Giles winced but kept walking. Tonight was not that night. But there would be one. He held onto that mental snapshot, the two of them, drinking together, voices loud and slurry as they were singing something that made no sense, laughing like best friends.

_I wonder whose bachelor party it was... that time. _

Whistling, Giles got in the car and drove to what would one day be his home to check in on the woman who would one day be his bride.

* * *

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Spike asked skeptically.

"Giles and I used to do this all the time!"

"Oh, fine then. But if you get killed..."

"Just stay back!" Buffy circled with the two tentacled demons in a scummy back lot.

"Slayer!"

"I'm serious! That books was ninety bucks and I'm selling it back at the end of the semester!" Buffy warned.

"The things I do for love." Spike perched on a dumpster and called loudly, "Recite the eight fold path, and briefly describe each step."

"What? He's not going to ask that on the midterm, pick another one."

"No! You asked me to read the flippin' chapter review, so you_ answer _the chapter review! Also- that thing has a soft skull, why are you buggerin' around with the chest?"

"You could have mentioned that five minutes ago." Buffy wiped something slimy and inky off her chin with a frown. "Toss me an ax and pick a different question!"

Spike sighed and shut the book before hoping down, taking on one cephalopod attacker as he stood beside her. "First explain the eight fold path thing." He punched the being squarely in its soft, domed forehead, and found himself covered in inky sludge. He vamped and snarled. "Gotta put in that bloody washin' machine..."

"Maybe we should slay first, study second."

"Now I wonder who suggested _that_, ten effing minutes ago?"

* * *

"It's all essay, but he didn't say what the topic choices were. So I should just reread the whole unit. Or maybe the book. Yeah. I could do that."

"Pull an all nighter?" Tara looked doubtfully at her sweetheart as they crawled into bed. Willow remained sitting up, bedside light still on. "But-"

"We could make tea. Have cookies. Play studying music."

"Ooh. And use highlighters?"

"With coordinating sticky notes."

"Even ... quiz each other."Tara purred, and when she said it, academic success suddenly seemed downright erotic.

Willow smiled. "You are so my perfect woman."

* * *

"Enlightened, strong woman or not- I admit defeat." Anya stopped opening boxes from her former little rental and sank wearily onto their bed.

"I'll tuck you in. Want me to sing a little song? Do a little dance?" Xander teased and came around beside her, brushing curls from her weary face.

"As much as like when you pretend I bought a lap dance at the Fabulous Women's Nightclub-"

"Ladies'." He corrected, and then looked at her sternly. "That is under the -boyfriend-girlfriend code of secrecy. Tell anyone about that night and -"

"I meant I like when you do that. But for now, all I want is for you to hold me a little extra. I like being out of the basement, with the dryer sheet smell, and the lack of windows, and I like being with you- but all this growing older stuff is scary. I don't like it. Also, I think responsibility gives me wrinkles." Anya ran her hands over her cheekbones.

"Nope. Not a line." He peered closely at the thousand year old woman with the twenty year old face. _She's mine. She's really mine. Wow._ "Hey. You know you're only as old as you feel."

"Then I'm thirteen hundred and eight." Anya said woefully, flopping back onto her pillow.

"I was hoping you'd say you feel like you're some sex-crazed babe who wants to break in the bed, now that we're officially moved in." He raised one eyebrow slowly and waggled it.

Anya opened her eyes. "Hmm. Sex is good."

"Twenty year old sex with a millennium of ideas is better." Xander winked. Then turned serious. "Besides you said you wanted me to hold you a little extra. Does all night count?"

She thought about it for a split second. "Yes!"

* * *

"No. No. No!" Glory shrugged off the helpful hands of her minions and staggered angrily upright, her heels sinking in soft sand. "Stop pawing me, I'll do it myself! How could you let him get away? With _my_ body!"

"Well, Your Magnificence, technically, at the time it was _his_ body."

"Ergggggh!" Glory cut him off with a frustrated scream.

"You're right, it was foolish. I pray that you would pluck out my unworthy eyeballs and -"

"Not now." Glory pushed her way to the canter of her followers. "Where are we, and what do we have here?"

"The White Land. A place of ancient, pure-"

"Yeah, yeah, but is my Key here?" She interrupted yet again.

"We're searching. As the priests keep saying, the Key can be anything made of pure energy, a soul, a temporal rift, an energy well. Pure energy wells are everywhere, some as small as a fist, some stretching a mile. "

"And you've done what all day? Make sandcastles?" She scanned the desert, minions hurrying everywhere across miles of unchanging blankness, seemingly pointlessly, with nothing to show for their frantic efforts.

"All of us are searching, and then the mages must perform spells on each well we find to ascertain how many forms of energy it contains, and how old the energy is. If one type of energy is new, different- perhaps it will be what you're seeking."

Glory looked around. This spot of eerie whiteness went on for miles. Emptiness. Like oblivion. She'd spent too long there. And she was afraid of going back.

She seemed to shiver in the cooler desert night. Fear was a human emotion. It was an emotion at all. "Starting to bleed." Glory whispered, suddenly sounding as incoherent as those she fed from.

"Yes, soon they will all bleed." Jinx soothed.

"No. _Me_." She held her hand up to the moon. "Skin is so thin. His humanity is eating away. Eating away at me, and the power's leaking out. I'm leaking." She gave a sudden hysterical laugh, an edge of tears underneath it. "Bleeding."

"Mighty One, please try to-" This time Glory didn't harshly silence him, he fell silent himself. It is a terrible thing to see the mightiest being in a cage, even one made with such beauty. It is a new level of anguish to watch a goddess reduced to madness and silent tears. She said it so often, but now he softly echoed her. "I know. We're running out of time."

* * *

They slipped through stone and into the comfort of home, unlikely home though it was.

"Where's my book? Did I leave it back there?" Buffy suddenly hissed in alarm.

"Under my coat." Spike kicked off his boots. "I'll go get it if you want me to help you study more."

"Did I mention I love you?"

"Maybe."

"Maybe?" Buffy put her chin on the apex of his pecs and looked up at him reproachfully.

"You could remind me." He slid his arms around her back and winked.

"And how do I do that? Please let it be something requiring a minimum of movement." She rested her head against him.

"We're covered in slime. Thought we could do shower, soap... somethin' slippery." The voice took on a silken, seductive edge and her pupils went wide. "You don't have to move ...much."

"I think I can move for that."

* * *

He chased the bar of soap across her breasts as she lay on top of him, a sandwich of bodies in a filled to overflowing behemoth of a tub. "Don't fall asleep in here. You can drown."

"But you hold me up." Buffy mumbled sleepily.

"Yeah. Mutual." He kissed the back of her head.

She smiled drowsily, and pursed her lips with playful congratulation."For undead and dating-challenged, I think we kick butt in the love department."

"Agreed." He held her tighter, her heartbeat seeming to soak into him. In a few moments her head lolled back, eyes blinking slowly as sleep started to overtake her. "Heart?" Nothing. "Buffy?_ Slayer_!" He barked and sat up in the water.

"I'm up! Oh." The wet girl looked around puzzled, and then said, "We should sleep."

"_You _should, anyway." Spike smirked.

"You have to take Mom to therapy tomorrow. Both of us should."

"Oh." He sighed. "Yeah. Maybe so, then. Been a long day."

Buffy smiled wanly. "Just another day. Like any other day."

* * *

_To be continued..._


	23. Part XXII

** Unknown **

**By Sweetprincipale**

_This is set in my non-canon, but canon-esque series following Uncontrollable and Unmentionable. If you haven't read those first, please do, or this won't read nearly as well or make much sense. Unknown begins a few weeks after the end of Unmentionable, around the beginning of season five._

_Dedicated to: CavemenFTW, skeezixx, ginar369, Alexiarrose, MaireAilbhe, omslagspapper, Dlillith21, Sirius120, Rachel, Kerry220, Jackiemack916, Alottalove, Annamonk, Jewel74, DidiSummers, Tawny, TessLouise, and KayanaM. _

_Direct Quotes are obviously not mine, but belong to the fabulously talented and creative people who wrote them. In this case, some of season five's dialogue will be used. _

_**Disclaimer: Nothing of Buffy belongs to me, except my sincere admiration. However, this story is all mine.**_

**Part XXII**

Weeks passed. There weren't that many places in California that gave off the beam of great goodness that the priests were seeking. One or two more, and they'd be forced to try a different place- and there was no place left try.

* * *

"I'm going to try not to get my hopes up too much. Or cry. Or anything. I mean, after today radiation is done, but that doesn't mean it's all going to be roses and kittens." Buffy brushed her hair nervously and seemingly spoke to herself in the mirror. Then she turned.

Spike stood behind her, looking equally uneasy and equally trying not to show it. "Nothin' to worry about. Just another treatment."

"The _last_ treatment!" Buffy crowed. Then put her hands over her mouth. "I mean- c'mon. Let's go."

"Right." He slicked back his hair once more, followed her out of the bathroom and watched her ascend their unusual staircase. "Think she'll want me there?" Spike finally decided to voice his apprehension.

Buffy whipped her head around with a soft frown. "Of course!"

He raised one eyebrow slowly. "Of course?"

Buffy slid the hatch back with a sigh. "So, 'of course' might be a stretch, but- she doesn't go around being all anti-Spike anymore."

Spike grimaced and followed her. "That's 'cause she barely speaks to me. She just stares at me. Like she's trying to see inside me."

Buffy offered him a hand to pull him over the last rung, not that he needed it, and stood in his way. Unmoving, looking up at him with a bittersweet smile on her face. "That's good. Not that you're not pretty on the outside-"

"Shucks, Slayer." He fluttered his lashes dramatically.

She rolled her eyes. "-_but,_ you do have a lot of amazing stuff on the inside." Buffy rubbed his chest lingeringly. "Maybe Mom is starting to see it. She just doesn't know what to say."

* * *

"Did Buffy say she's riding with us, or meeting us there?" Joyce asked.

"Meeting us there."

"And it's just you two, isn't it?" Joyce fussed with her wig and the blue and gold scarf over top of it as she looked in the hall mirror. "I know they'd all like to be there, but it's a little overwhelming on the staff when one patient brings enough people to fill the waiting room."

Giles laughed. "They all agree this is a special moment in terms of your treatment. They'd like to be there I'm sure, but I believe it'll just be Buffy and Spike who join us."

Joyce stiffened. "It's daylight."

Giles opened the door for her. "Why so it is."

Another sigh, more frustrated now. "I supposed it never stopped him before." He'd taken her to a dozen treatments. "I never thought vampires would move around in the day time. They'd skulk around at night. Angel seemed to." Joyce frowned and put her handbag and walked out into the bright fall sunshine.

"Spike is entirely different than Angel." Giles said. Joyce gave him a strange look. _Right. Seems too easy. It's only been a short while- to the rest of them_. "I meant to say- that is- Spike wants Buffy to have whatever she needs in terms of support. He'll accompany her in daylight."

"Even if he almost bursts into flames?" Joyce muttered.

"Yes." Giles stated firmly, capturing her eyes. "Even then."

Joyce was silent on the way to hospital.

* * *

"Congrats, Mrs. Summers. Last appointment. You've been a real trooper." The technician took Joyce's paperwork and gestured to the waiting area. "We'll get you started in a couple minutes." He walked off with a little wave.

"Last one." Joyce sank back in her seat and clutched Giles' hand in one of hers, and Buffy's in the other. "Something I can definitely say I'll be glad to clear off my schedule." She turned to Buffy and hugged her tight. "See? We made it." False comfort. The cancer was still there. But this part of the treatment was done. If the tumor didn't start to grow again... Joyce forced her smile to remain. It's still a relief.

Buffy's thoughts mirrored her mother's. _We do the brave thing. _She smiled broadly. "It's awesome, Mom."

Spike began to slip away. He was the ride to these appointments. The few minutes before they took her in, he was company. The half hour she was gone where he couldn't see her, he paced. The few hours where they let her sit and let the room-spinning, utter exhaustion, can-barely-breathe-for-being-tired part pass, he was the silent presence a few feet away. Or sometimes the one who read out bits of the magazines by the bed they put her on.

But they didn't need him now. She hardly needed him then. _These strong women._ He smiled slightly and backed towards the door.

"Where are you going?" Joyce asked, as if she'd been watching him the whole time, surprising him.

_Bloody hell. Genetic, maybe._ Spike coughed. "Family moment. I was-"

"I'm glad you came." The words left her mouth, and Buffy and Giles gave her a very unflattering look of shock. "Buffy needs you." Joyce said simply.

_Hm. Needed after all. _Something inside him seemed to glow, and Joyce's eyes seemed to squint.

"We're ready for you." The nurse appeared in the doorway with a smile and clipboard.

The moment was gone.

"There'll be other times." Giles murmured quietly and followed Joyce down the corridor, hearing two sets of footsteps behind his.

* * *

"You might see a change in her over the next few days." The doctor explained gently.

"She's always more tired."

"This was the final dose, and it was slightly higher."

"What does that mean? Was it supposed to be?" Buffy sat up straight in her chair, and Spike winced as her fingers crushed his.

"Each case is different, but yes, that was the plan in your mother's case. She'll move on strictly to chemo treatments, and the dosage is going to be a little higher there as well." He looked over the top of his glasses and then looked away, back at his notes. "Some of the side effects might be worse until things level out."

"Side effects?" Giles removed his glasses and gave the doctor a stare that combined "I'm vastly smarter than you are." and "Don't mess with my woman." "Go on."

"The affected area of the brain might take a little while longer to recover from this treatment. She'll be more tired."

"We can handle that. She-_ we_ have tons of help, she can sleep all day, no big." Buffy babbled.

"That's wonderful. In addition, there might be a loss of vision- temporarily. Blurred vision. Increased fatigue. Muscle pain. A loss of... lucidity."

"What?" Buffy blinked.

Giles took her hand, stilling her, licking his suddenly thinned, dried lips. "Those were always a possibility. She's done very well until now."

"What makes this different?" Spike demanded, fists balling in tension. _Don't bite the doc. Don't bite the doc. Don't bite the doc..._

The doctor stopped hiding behind the papers and sighed. "When radiation stops, sometimes the cancer makes a brief rally. The chemo will make a surge into the affected areas as well."

"My mom is not a battlefield!" Buffy snapped, angry, overwhelmed tears suddenly springing into her eyes. She blinked them away. "She's going to get better!"

"Yes, she is." Giles said firmly. Spike stole a glance at him. Pale. Paler than he should be. "Right now- she has to work through this." His breathing seemed to catch and drag a little.

"Steady..." Spike murmured and cast uneasy looks at the two humans he cared about- one freely, one slightly and begrudgingly.

"It's usually a minor set back. Your mother is progressing wonderfully. She has an excellent prognosis at this stage. A few days... Perhaps a week. And then she'll work on adjusting to the differences in the chemo." The paper shuffle began again. "Here, let me take you through this week's blood panel..."

* * *

Joyce woke slowly. Two figures, blurry, smiling anxiously. And a third shape. White and then gold and white again, with black edges. So confusing. "What'd they do to my eye?"

"Mom. Are you okay? Can you see?" Buffy demanded, fingers slipping past the side bars on the bed and into her hands.

"Of course I can, Sweetie." Joyce tried to sit up and rapidly sank back. "Oh. Ohhh, that's not good."

"You want me to get the nurse?" Spike needed to move, do something. Perching wasn't working for him.

"Spike's here?" Joyce rolled her head slowly, eyes struggling to focus.

"Yes, get the nurse." Buffy hissed.

"Spike? You look different. Sort of - gold and blurry. Gold... round ball." Joyce suddenly frowned. "You're not smoking are you? Oh!" The frown turned panicked. "You're not on fire?"

"I'm fine. I'm just fine, Luv." Spike soothed. "Gonna go get your nurse so we can get you off home."

Joyce nodded and closed her eyes. "That'll be nice."

Spike squeezed Buffy's shoulder and quickly left, looking for one o the staff members he knew worked with Joyce.

Giles stood and turned. Raked his hair, turned on his heel and paced three times across the room.

Buffy joined him, halted him, with a pleading look in her eyes. "She- she's just confused. It's a lot to shoot lasers at your brain- even good ones."

He didn't bother to correct her terminology, only nodded, wishing she'd move, let him pace again.

"She said he's glowing."

Another terse nod, eyes that didn't meet hers.

"Do you think people can see- souls?"

_Perhaps. When they're dying. When the ether thins..._

_Why show me a future, why let me taste love again- only to rip it away? Why make two futures and give us precious little control over which one we end up in? What did they make us choose? Choose love, that was the lesson, and I have learned it. I have loved. I have chosen. _

_ But someone else chooses the ending. _

"Giles? Do you think she might have-"

"I suppose." He managed to whisper hoarsely before the noise changed. A dry sound, a half-choking, half-sobbing, muffled under a bitten fist as he turned away.

Buffy stared, surprised. Whatever she'd been expecting, she hadn't expected that. She hastily yanked the privacy curtain around the bed and scooted in front of Giles, gripping his forearms when he tried to turn from her again.

She hadn't seen this pained, strangled, silent weeping. Ever. Unless-

Fire. Flashes of red flame, smells of creosote and blood on tweed, and being so scared. That she would lose him, because he had lost her. "Giles. Hey. It's going to be okay." Buffy found herself thrust into his usual role, the calm one, the persevering one.

"I love her." Giles said vehemently. "I lose every woman I love."

She saw the face in her mind again, matched it up to the face she could see now, only this one was less maddened with grief, but still unraveling.

_The night he came after Angel, who took Jenny from him. Now there's no one to fight back against and he's scared. He's in love and he's scared he's losing her, and I know how it hurts. _

Buffy slid her arms around him and hugged, small, thin arms seeming so inadequate around such a typically staunch, unwavering frame.

"I love her." He repeated, hating himself for giving way, but clutching her to him all the same, leaning on the body he'd so often supported.

"I won't let you lose her." Buffy whispered grimly. She meant it. "I promise."

* * *

Giles straightened up in a moment. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be." Buffy shrugged. From behind the curtain, the unconscious woman moaned faintly.

"It's not that I doubt what I've told you before- about- about your mother's recovery." When in control, he forced the fears down.

"But seeing her all loopy... so bad." Buffy shivered. Cold chills settled in her stomach.

Giles nodded and peered around for Spike and the nurse, but no one had arrived yet. He quickly dabbed at his eyes and harrumphed to restore his composure. "When your mother doesn't notice that something is wrong, it- it doesn't resonate as it should."

Buffy sighed. "I know you're overcompensating for being upset in front of me or something, but speak teenager, okay?"

"When is the last time your mother lay back and let her symptoms overtake her without making at least a token effort to get up or fight them off?" Giles challenged. Then promptly wished he hadn't. The face that had been so strong in the presence of his tears now turned vulnerable, scared little girl eyes in a beautifully grown mask.

"Oh." Buffy managed to put a world of pained realization in one little syllable.

"She's got somethin' wrong with her eye and I don't give a bloody damn about 'expected', I want you to bloody check. Please." Spike was half pulling, half coaxing-slash-bullying a nurse into Joyce's room.

"She's gone back to sleep." Giles spoke up quickly.

The nurse looked between the two men, and decided the younger one with his curious growling sounds seemed more likely to snap and went over to the bed. "Mrs. Summers? Mrs. Summers?"

"Stay with her, okay?" Buffy whispered to Spike, and fled into the hallway.

"But I-"

"Get us if it's drastic." Giles darted past him as well.

Spike shook his head and growled. "Leave for a few minutes and all hell breaks loose."

* * *

"Buffy. Buffy, I'm sorry." Giles chased her down. "I didn't wish to -hm- alarm you, I simply-"

"No, you're right. It's a big deal. She doesn't notice that she's totally seeing sacred, mystical stuff, like a soul."

"She doesn't realize what she's seeing."

"But it'll be bad. She'll figure out what Spike has and-"

Giles shook his head, lips quirking. "Why are you worried about Spike's part in this now?"

"Well- shouldn't I be? Mom just developed mega x-ray vision into the one thing in the world I'm trying to hide. More wiggy, she doesn't even realize it's funky that she's seeing Spike with a sunshine center."

He swallowed. "Buffy. The ability for a human, not skilled in magic, to suddenly see a person's soul-"

"Well, I wouldn't care if it was _everyone's_ soul, but Spike's is kind of a big, huge, 'I command you to hide this', people die because of this deal." Buffy cut him off impatiently, craning her head back through the window of the room where her mother was recovering.

Giles blinked. "She only saw Spike's."

"I guess. She never said _we_ were glowing."

Relief. Oh, sweet, flooding relief! _She's not dying._ Giles sucked in a lungful of air and laughed once. "All of us have souls, all of these people! But she only noticed his!" He placed a hand on his heart and sighed.

Buffy placed a hand on his collar and shook him. "So help me if you drag my boyfriend out of the soul closet in the middle of this hospital I will burn every book you own." Buffy threatened. "You, Mr. 'told me to keep my whole life secret'. Discrete much?"

"No, you don't understand. I thought- well, never mind what I thought." Giles waved it away, and ignored her threats with equal dismissiveness. He took Buffy's elbow and led her down to a quiet part of the hall, furtively looking over his shoulder all the time. "Spike's- er-hrm. Yes, what he has, and what we have. His was bestowed. It wasn't naturally occurring."

"I so know this already." Buffy urged him to speed up.

"So Joyce isn't seeing souls. She's seeing this- this 'gift'."

"She's the only one who's ever said anything. Tara, who reads your spiritual colors or whatever, she never even-"

"An aura is not the same." Giles interrupted, then mused. "I doubt it's medicinally induced. He must have come across any number of patients under going similar treatments when he brings your mother."

"True. And it only happened _this_ time."

"Your mother is not herself."

"She's just not all here right now." Buffy said hotly.

_Not all here. Perhaps some is... elsewhere. _"It's not her health. It's her mind."

"What?"

"Her mind. It's altered. She's not entirely lucid. Part of her brain is not functioning as it usually does after this last, more aggressive treatment."

Buffy bit her lip, tilted her head, then gave up. "_What_?"

"Whatever Spike has- Joyce saw it, because of what is going on inside her head."

"What does that mean?"

"I don't know yet." Giles admitted.

Buffy rolled her eyes. "All that build up and that's what we get?"

"I believe research is in order." Giles said with a small smile.

Buffy smiled suddenly. "You're feeling better."

The Watcher flushed. "Yes. Earlier- I didn't mean to leap to conclusions. I was simply not thinking rationally."

"Yeah. Being in love screws up logical stuff." Buffy led him back towards the room.

"It does." He nodded. Coughed. Polished. "Thank you. You held up very admirably."

Buffy didn't have anything to polish so she tugged on a loose strand of hair. "I don't think you have to thank me. You didn't just teach me to be a slayer. You taught me what it's like to be an adult."

He was moved. Much moved, and it would be mortifying to cry again. So he nodded and polished further.

She covered for him. "Not adult like how to pay the electric bill and balance a checkbook. But the other stuff. Handling a crisis. Knowing what to do when you don't know what to do. Does that make any sense?"

"Perfectly sensible." He held the door open for her, and they walked in together.

* * *

Joyce looked at all three of them together, looked at Spike wavering like a badly tuned television set, and then sighed when he came into sharp focus as she forced herself to concentrate. "I'm ready to go home."

"The nurse says you're not stabilized yet." Giles sat beside her. "Another hour resting would help."

"But I have to put my car insurance payment in the mail and stop at the bank." Joyce protested weakly.

Her three guests exchanged smiles.

"You're getting better already." Spike chortled.

"Hm. Don't smoke in here." Joyce's voice grew fainter and her vision blurred again. The golden gleam was hovering over Spike, not in the least like a cigarette, but the only logical explanation her brain offered.

"I won't, I don't wanna get chucked out." Spike smirked at Buffy. "Gotta visit a little bank of my own." He winked.

Buffy leaned her head against Giles' shoulder and wondered who else but Spike would have their soul mistaken for a smoke. "Hurry back."

"Buffy!" Giles gaped. "Raiding the blood bank while your mother is a patient here is-"

"Not now." Buffy watched her mother turn in her unrestful sleep, her pale face seeming to have a glow of its own. "We can talk about it when we get home."

* * *

Anya hung up the phone with a worried frown. "She's not coming in for a couple days."

Willow closed her laptop and Tara put down the dust cloth she was using.

"Why?" Willow asked, moving towards Tara, automatically searching for her comfort.

"She's really tired and having problems focusing." Anya turned to the cash register and started balancing the already balanced drawer with brisk, hard fingers. "That's fine. We can run the store."

"We have class tomorrow."

"Then I'll run it myself."

"Spike and Giles could probably come in." Tara soothed.

"That's fine." Anya started scribbling notes in the ledger, the same ledger she'd just filled out, with exactly the same numbers.

"Anya?" Willow dared to reach for her elbow.

"Stop that! I'll lose count!" Anya snapped explosively.

"Sorry!"

"Things should be orderly. Organized! Sequential. You - you earn money and you deposit it, earn interest, and then you spend it. Simple."

"Uh..."

"You're sick, you go get medicine, you get better. Your medicine shouldn't make you _more_ sick! And if they're taking you _off_ of a medicine- dammit, the last treatment shouldn't be worse than the first treatment!" Anya slammed the drawer so hard it bounced back with an angry ping. "Oh God! I hurt the money." She backed up from it slowly, only to be blocked in a very short space by the counter.

Tara and Willow exchanged a look. "It doesn't mean she's getting worse." Tara whispered, softly stepping towards her. Anya nodded, lips pursing as her face twitched in an effort not to cry. "She's going to be fine."

"We all worry about her. Buffy's mom is-"

"Isn't just 'Buffy's mom' to me. She's my friend. She's some sort of mother figure to you guys-"

"And you!" Willow said defensively.

"And me!" Anya agreed wholeheartedly. "She's also my friend. We- we talk and she doesn't treat me like I'm the outsider, and I never- had this- before." Anya said slowly. "Someone who likes me 'cause I'm me. Not just 'cause I'm Xander's girlfriend or I can help explain a forthcoming apocalypse." Anya shrugged back inside herself, and started straightening up the counter. "You don't have to get it."

"We-" Tara started to speak and Willow shook her head. A moment passed, while Anya viciously arranged things and Willow tired to find the right words.

"Anya? Do you want to go to the magic shop with us after closing?"

"What?" Anya looked up, puzzled.

"We need some more sand, and some white feathers. But we could get Joyce some healing crystals. Mixing magic and medicine don't work, I know, but we could just infuse a crystal with a positive energy spell for Joyce to keep in her house. It might help her be less tired..."

Anya stared, and stopped fidgeting with things on the table. "Is that your way of trying to initiate me into a deeper friendship with you two?"

Willow groaned in exasperation. "You don't ask things like that! It- it makes people uncomfortable."_ If I wasn't so uncomfortable, I could have just said 'Yeah. Duh.'._

"Oh." Another proof she was on the outside, not fitting in, doing the opposite.

Tara glared briefly at her sweetheart, who looked contrite, but before she could make another attempt, Tara stepped in. "Yes. That's what she meant. I know we're not Joyce, but we- could still be friends. Better friends, I mean!" She tacked on quickly. "I- I know what it's like to be on the outside of this group."

Willow's face crumpled slightly at Tara's soft, melancholy voice."Baby-"

The tone changed. "It doesn't last very long." Tara tucked her long braid over her shoulder while biting her lips almost shyly. "Amicus, senes animam?"

_From one old soul to another_. "Awwww." Anya put her hand over her heart. "That's so sweet. Not sweet like Xander-sweet, but sweet."

"Xander _is_ really sweet. Goofy-sweet." Willow smiled. _We have stuff in common. We have to stick together anyway. 'Cause it seems like it's really easy to lose each other around here sometimes..._

"He's not very good at magic, though."

"I think he likes the magic books."

"All the half- naked pictures." Anya and Willow said as one, and laughed. Tara blushed and rolled her eyes.

"C'mon." Tara picked up her dust cloth once again. "They're going to need some extra help for a couple days."

The smiles sobered. "Then we help." Willow shrugged.

* * *

"They'll help out at the store tonight, and then someone has to cover tomorrow during the day, unless we want to leave Anya by herself the whole time."

"Heaven forbid. You can't unloose Anya on an unsuspecting populace without someone there to restrain her." Giles said tiredly. He was sprawled against the couch, glasses off, collar open, a small amount of scotch in a glass resting on his knee.

"Your mother shouldn't be left alone, either, and her needs are more pressing."

"I can miss class." Buffy said quickly, though her voice was dragging out slowly.

"Your mother would hate that."

"Mom might not notice." Buffy said bitterly.

Spike spoke from his seat underneath Buffy, his lover slumped against him. They were too tired to care about how it looked to the sometimes disapproving father-figure as she comfortably curled in his lap. "Think you're overlookin' somethin'. Or rather someone."

"Xander can't take off from work again this month. He doesn't work, he doesn't get paid."

"I meant me! I can mind the store, or keep the home fires burnin'. Whatever you need." They looked at him, then each other. "Done both before!"

"Yeah, but Mom keeps thinking you're on fire or something. She'll call 911 to come put you out. Really don't want to have to explain that."

"I'll keep out of sight as much as I can. Or I'll go to the store. Keep to the back."

"Your soul is showing quite a lot these days." Giles slugged his drink down and closed his eyes painfully.

Buffy defended him. "It's not the soul. He would do it anyway."

Giles' mind ran in lazy flashbacks, the weeks leading up to the night of their shared dreaming. _Risked his life for her. Stood battling by her side. Comforted her. bonded to her. He loved her before the soul. Who knows just how long before? _"I appreciate the effort." Giles nodded, speaking more to nothingness than to the couple across from him.

"Anytime." Spike shifted Buffy around and pulled out his smokes. "Calms the nerves. Want?" The other two declined.

They sat in silence, listening for any shifts or noises from upstairs, where an exhausted Joyce lay sleeping.

Hours went by, heads lolled, and brains relaxed enough to think.

* * *

He was chasing them through rooms he knew, past faces he was familiar with, but felt completely lost.

His grandmother's voice was sympathetic but direct. _That's what happens when you see the future, Rupert. You know so much of what will be, and almost none of how it comes to pass. You took in too many sights, in too little time. _

_ I love too many people. Too many lives wrapped inside of mine._

_Wrapped inside? Now_ there's_ a problem._

* * *

_ Mom. Mommy? _

_ Shhh. They're fighting inside her head. _The doctor moved aside from his operating table to reveal a tray covered in ancient swords and spell books.

_ It's not magic! It's not, it's cancer and I- _Buffy stopped speaking, voice trembling. _If it was magical all along and I let them tell me it wasn't... If I backed down and now she dies..._

_ She won't die. _Giles appeared behind her, confident and resplendent in gray morning suit._ I know. I won't tell you just how, but I do know. I know so many things you don't._

_ Giles, this isn't a time for games!_

_ No, my dear. _The suit changed, from the gray of pressed fabric to the gray of hard steel.

Morning suit, suit of armor, we never know what we look like when we're fighting around here, Buffy thought.

He handed her a broadsword. _Not time for games. It's a time for war. I've trained you well, you told me so earlier. _

But she refused to take the weapon._ My mother is not going to be a casualty of whatever battle this is!_

_ She's not a casualty. She's not a weapon. She's a clue. Her mind's eye sees what ours cannot. _

Buffy watched her mother sit up, stare at something in the distance, and turned to follow her gaze.

Spike. In flames. Or rather one flame, burning, bursting in a perfect sphere from the center of his chest.

_ Buffy? _Joyce's voice was slightly scolding. _I've told you not to play with fire. Someone really ought to put that out._

* * *

Spike kept beating at his chest, trying to put it out. _Get it out! Get it off! You bloody fool, it kills people!_

A spaniel-eyed monk smiled regretfully._ Not anymore. If you're careful. If she's careful. If you hide it, it'll save billions more than it's ever hurt. If you both do your jobs. _

_You leave her out of this! I'm not Soul Boy, and this means nothing to her! She loves me! _ME! _As I was, as I am, an' however I bloody well will be._

_Loves you. She'll protect you. You'll protect her. Just don't get burned._

Spike sank his hand inside his chest, magically feeling his skin give and light soar out.

It glowed. It glowed perfect and gold and round like the moon and sun had danced and merged, then been shrunk to fit in the palm of his hand.

_Oh no. No... Much older than your sun and moon._ The voice was drifting away as it seemed to read his thoughts.

Spike kept staring at the ball.

That _ball. _

He woke with a snort and gasp. Buffy gave a cry and toppled off of him.

* * *

"What happened?" Buffy demanded. "Mom! Spike, Giles?" Everything was okay. She let out a shaky sigh. "Weird dream, anyone?" Both men nodded.

"Did we have another dream fest?" Spike was going to murder the person in charge of magical gourds if this thing caused sudden psychic flare up.

"No, not the same thing." Giles shook his head. "Not caused by the same thing. Slayers have prophetic dreams. Watchers can. Vampires-" He paused, realizing he didn't actually know. "As a rule, do vampires have prophetic dreams?"

"When somethin' makes our insides tick a little extra, it happens sometimes." Spike said grudgingly. "I wouldn't call it prophetic. More like the otherworldly bumpin' into the human side when the human side's too blind to notice something."

Not too blind. Maybe just too busy. Three exchanged helpless looks. _What were we supposed to do? Life happens._

"We have to figure out what's inside Spike, and we must do it now." Giles was on his feet, and suddenly alert.

"It's old. It's a new soul but it's made out of somethin' old. Ancient. And I've seen something that looks like it." Spike was quick to jump in.

"Mom seeing it means something. It's only when you're sick you can see it."

"Not just any kind of sick, been in a ruddy hospital a hundred times this year." Spike grunted.

"Not sick. Seeing differently." Giles insisted and Buffy nodded.

"Get that glow-ball, Luv." Spike nodded his chin towards the upstairs.

"What? No!"

"Yes." Giles sided with Spike- causing everyone a moment of disbelieving silence. "Hm. Yes. He doesn't need to hold it, Buffy. I agree the monk's instructions about giving Spike the sphere at the right time weren't very clear and it's better to be safe than sorry. We need to study it. It's the only non-metaphysical object we have to study, and we need to find the specific connection between it, what the monks put inside Spike- and what your mother can see."

Buffy turned toward the stairs. "Okay." She agreed heavily. "If seeing it again helps."

Giles frowned. "I don't think I'm the only one who needs to see it."

Buffy stiffened and stopped. "No. _No_.You're not showing this to them."

"It's an unknown, something we can't find in any book."

"We've barely had time to look at all!" Buffy protested.

"All the more reason not to tarry with getting as much help as possible. This seems to be something ancient. Something older than the magic I know, something of the old ways."

"You can't tell them about the new clockworks." Spike sided with Buffy, which felt more natural to all.

"Nor do I intend to. But Tara's gifts- she is a conduit. She connects to something we can't hear, speaks for things which have no voice. And Anya- a thousand years in the demon world. If this is a force for good or evil, perhaps she'll recognize it. Something about it."

"You can't tell Demon Gal and Tara without telling the boy an' Red." Spike snorted.

"I'm aware of that." Giles hands locked and spasmed slightly. "They'll all find out. I know what that means. I have put people in danger before. I have tried to avoid it. I'll still try to, yet-"

"A war is coming." Buffy understood. Danger was coming whether they wanted it to or not. Slayers stand on the front lines. They choose their allies. They make hard calls. And the human side worries and prays and loves everyone extra because nothing is certain in this world... "We show them the Dagon. We _don't_ mention Key, and we don't mention soul, and no way in hell do we connect those things to Spike or parts of his dream." She declared all these things fast and hard, because it was the only way she could force the thoughts to turn into words and leave her frightened mouth. "Spike?"

"I trust you." He gave her charge of his heart and soul, he could let her organize their "research".

Fear and doubt crashed around her, and she reacted, burrowing suddenly into his arms. "I love you."

"Shhh. Shh. Love you, too. Your friends- not exactly my kind of people, but you can trust 'em. An' I trust _you_."

"Yeah, I know that. But nothing else. I don't know what's going to happen. I _never_ know, and it's worse this time."

Giles left the room, to check on Joyce, and to leave them alone. _I have faith in you. Don't they say faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things unseen? I've seen the end. I have faith we get through the middle._

Giles mounted the stairs noiselessly, quiet enough to hear Spike's rough, almost rasping, voice whispering. "You do know. You know that you and I never lose each other, no matter what. Rest of the world, the fights, the blood, the battles- background. We can fake our way through whatever they throw at us. 'Cause I promised I wouldn't leave."

She swallowed. She knew _two_ things. They stayed together, that was one certainty in million uncertainties. The other- "You always keep your promises."

"Any promise I make to you."

* * *

_To be continued..._


	24. Part XXIII

** Unknown **

**By Sweetprincipale**

_This is set in my non-canon, but canon-esque series following Uncontrollable and Unmentionable. If you haven't read those first, please do, or this won't read nearly as well or make much sense. Unknown begins a few weeks after the end of Unmentionable, around the beginning of season five._

_Author's notes: Picks up from the end of last chapter pretty much. Smut warning. Skim if you gotta._

_Dedicated to: Alexiarrose, CavemenFTW, skeezixx, ginar369,, MaireAilbhe, omslagspapper, Annamonk, Jewel74, and DidiSummers. I have no words for how much your kindness means to me._

_Direct Quotes are obviously not mine, but belong to the fabulously talented and creative people who wrote them. In this case, some of season five's dialogue will be used. _

_**Disclaimer: Nothing of Buffy belongs to me, except my sincere admiration. However, this story is all mine.**_

**Part XXIII**

_The next evening..._

"Our neighbor came over to sit with Mom for awhile. She bought over reading material and chocolate cake so we're covered for a couple hours." Buffy paced Giles' living room, back and forth across her friends seated on the couch, like she was a sergeant inspecting her troops.

"Joyce is doing meaningful bonding with someone else? I mean, someone else and I wasn't invited to join in?" Anya looked mildly worried.

"Anya, Sweetie, don't. Joyce needed a buddy, and we needed you here." Xander placated, rubbing her back. He paused, then asked casually, "Are we talking a whole cake, or like, a slice? Would there be leftovers?" Willow whomped him with one of Giles' sofa pillows and Buffy rolled her eyes.

"The point being we need to urgently reconvene our research meetings, and Joyce is looked after. She's also far more lucid. At this point." Giles hurried them on.

"Urgently reconvene?" Willow sat up straight. "What's going on? Is there something going on?"

Spike sat backwards in the desk chair, chin resting on his sinewy arms as they crossed under his chin. He managed to keep his face bored and blank by not quite looking at Buffy directly.

"We think so." Buffy hated lying- or in this case not telling the whole truth- to her best friends, her family. Giles opened his mouth, but she shook her head slightly, under the guise of adjusting her hair. She was the only one she trusted to tell this story- and just enough of it to get some help and get some research started, but not enough to expose Spike. "A couple weeks ago, Spike and I were patrolling the warehouse district and we um- we found these monks."

"Monks?" Anya sat up slightly. "In the middle of Evil-ville, California?"

"First trippy thing." Spike muttered.

"That's not important- or maybe it is, I don't know." Buffy clenched her hands and flexed her fingers. "When we found them, they were dying-" Horrified gasps cut her off, made her wince sympathetically but keep going, keep avoiding Spike's eyes, knowing how he'd felt some special connection with the monks, however briefly. "I know. We tried to help them but-"

"They were dyin' already." Spike said in a gritty voice. "We just tried to make 'em comfortable." _Did that sound too souled up? Bugger it. We tried to help them. Tried to repay them- something inside me knew they were the ones that had helped..._

"What killed them?" Willow's voice quivered slightly.

"Why were they here?" Xander demanded. "Also- two weeks ago? As in fourteen days? Why the delayed spillage?"

It had been longer than that, but they didn't want to acerbate the situation. Buffy's fingers winced again, the pressure of half-truths gnawing at her."They came here- looking for me. They had something they want us to protect." Buffy moved over to the coffee table and knelt down, dragging a box that Giles' had leant her out into the center of the room.

"Protect from who?" Tara asked.

"They didn't say that." Buffy answered emphatically, relieved to say something fully honest. "They did call it something. Um. With Mom and everything, we haven't researched too much lately, but-" Buffy struggled to keep her voice steady. They were busier than ever helping her mother, with work, school, the store, and she knew they'd never believe this was a better time to start suddenly showing an interest in research again. "But I was stupid. I thought things would get better, or I could hide it, deal with it myself-" Her self-berating tone drew quick defenses from her friends, who always tried to see the best in her.

"Buffy!" Willow and Xander were the first to shake their heads and decry.

"Slayer, stop actin' like an airhead." Spike huffed at her, hating to see her beat herself up.

"Spike! Not helping!" Xander again.

"We're family, w-we would always help." Tara stammered with a rush of emotion, not nerves. "It doesn't matter when you ask."

"Tara is right, as she so often is." Giles sighed with a kindly smile at the blonde. "The main thing is not the timeframe, but that we get started. Buffy- explain, please."

"Right. Right." Buffy nodded, twisted her hair around a hand and then forced herself back into her commanding mode. "The one monk, head monk guy, told me this thing-" she gently touched the shining ball, "is called a 'Dagon'."

"A dragon?" Anya leaned curiously over the box.

"No, _Da_-gon." Buffy repeated more firmly. Then shook her head. "But dragon might make more sense. At least I've heard of those."

"In the limited time we've had, we've looked through a few of the larger demonology resources, but can't find anything. "

"Demonology?" Anya frowned. "It's so pretty and- glowy."

"Yeah. This oughta be in the good guy reference guide, not the bad guy one." Xander admired it.

"That's not always the case." Giles pointed out. "Demons can be beautiful."

"Aww, Rupes. Didn't know you cared." Spike preened with an obnoxious smirk.

"He meant me." Anya hissed, then winked.

"You made a joke. A non-blunt obvious statement joke! Honey, I'm so proud of you." Xander praised. "Not that your obvious statements aren't adorable..."

"FOCUS!" Willow, all powerful queen of magical research, and who was now practically salivating for a chance to get to the books, thundered and clapped her hands. "Stop goofing around! Buffy, what else did he say? Why did he need you to protect it? Protect it from who, what does it do?" She held out her hands for the orb, and delicately brushed a finger against it when Buffy pushed the box toward her.

"It- it protects something. Something huge and important. Something that's hidden, and that - that has to be protected, too. Protects the protector. It's something that's part of a bigger deal." Buffy murmured, slowly speaking more to herself. Her friends knew well enough to listen when she had one of her rare moments of shared musing. "Then I had a dream. Slayer dream. I knew it was old. And it's part of something that's coming. Something big, and that's why we need it. It's old, powerful magic. So old that maybe it's from the 'old ways'?" Buffy asked, eyes lifting towards Tara.

"I've never heard of Dagons." Tara bit her lip, feeling as though she'd let them down when she could finally do something useful.

"I've never heard of it either, and I was around for a eleven centuries." Anya pointed out as well.

"But just because we've never heard of it, doesn't mean it isn't something from the old magics." Willow chimed in eagerly, always anxious for an excuse to delve deeper into her mystic craft. "Maybe it's old. Waaay old."

Buffy and Spike had thoroughly shared their dreams after they happened, and she knew what he'd been told. What glowed inside him, what glowed in that ball? They told him it was "Older than your sun and moon." "I'm thinking ancient." Buffy said in a high, constricted voice.

"There's not much older than elemental magic. The basic forces of earth, air, fire, and water. Creational elements." Giles pointed out, chin in palm.

No one considered it might be pre-creation. Primordial indeed, at least in their universe, a relic torn from the cosmos and hidden in this human dimension, where the energy of thousands of thoughts and minds would someday draw the restless deposed goddess looking for it.

"Can't you tell? You can 'scry' or 'trace', right? Willow- remember when you found my skateboard last summer?" Xander exclaimed.

"This isn't like you losing stuff in that hovel you call a basement." Spike scowled. "You can't mess with this lot, an' you don't need to search for the damn thing, it's here."

"We-we could see if it has sympathetic magic." Tara broke up the shouting match that was about to erupt again. "If it's an object infused with the magic of the old ways, doing some simple elemental magic should make it glow brighter, or react somehow." Tara explained, flushing as all eyes turned to her. "I mean, I _think_ so. I think it might."

"Well, it's better than anything else we've come up with. Finding a time bracket would at least give us somewhere to begin." Giles bolstered her confidence.

"I'm desperate. Let's try something. Anything." Buffy moved closer to Spike, who rubbed her sides soothingly.

"In for a penny, in for a pound. What do we need?"

"Four elemental auras to perform a simple calling should work, right?" Willow turned to her girlfriend who nodded. "We have all that stuff at our dorm."

"We're not all going to fit in your dorm." Spike groaned.

"We can't do it at Mom's!"

"You can do it here, get what you need and bring it back."

"Or we could split up." Anya moved to Giles' bookshelves and started peering at the spines of books. "The most effective use of time and resources. Time is money. Or in this case, time is better on the good guy's side. You need four elemental auras, you've got Earth, Air, Fire, and Water." She pointed loosely to Tara, Willow, Buffy, and Spike. "In addition, you have a Radiant and Dark power in the mix, so you have a more powerful, yet perfectly balanced calling circle. Also- both couples are sexual partners. You'll unleash things on a more primal level."

"Anya." Giles snatched a book from her hand and glared. Tara and Buffy had gone beet red, Spike was practically purring at the mention of "primal", sexually infused magic, and Willow just stared.

"Hm? I didn't crease the spine this time!" Anya seemed genuinely puzzled and tried to take the book back. "It makes sense! We'll start looking in books, they'll do some field work."

"Not _that_ part." Giles said through gritted teeth. "That part is actually- a very good idea." He was forced to admit.

"Right. Um. So- dorms." Buffy squeaked. Then leaned over to Willow and whispered, "She doesn't mean we-"

"God, no!"

"Oh. Okay then." Buffy's coloring returned to normal.

"You're okay. I'm wondering if they make brain bleach."

"For Tara?"

"No, Anya."

"Hrm-hrm!" Spike coughed pointedly. "You're agin' the undead here. Can we do this, or should we flap gums all night?"

Giles became brisk. "Anya, Xander, and I will pull out everything we have on the older magics and their artifacts." He'd been meaning to do that anyway, ever since the night Buffy and Spike asked him if magic could change the form of something, take a Key, whatever that was, and make it a soul.

"It shouldn't take more than a couple hours." Tara nodded.

"Hours?" Buffy and Spike cried as one.

"Jinx." Xander smiled and caught a book that Anya tossed him.

* * *

"Jinx!" Glory called. "I'm still hungry."

"Are you?" Jinx seemed alarmed. "But you've just eaten three gas station attendants."

"They were nice. Sort of like junk food. I want to eat someone smart soon. Too many empty calories." She patted her curving hips.

"Yes, Your Magnificence, only, since we've been in the state for days, we'll begin to attract attention. As has happened before... forcing us to flee..."

"And we can't flee, I get it." Glory licked her fingertips, blue light still rippling around the scarlet nails. "Because my Key is here. Somewhere in this human ant farm." Glory and her troupe were now on the outskirts of a large town, in a 'borrowed' mansionette, freshly disappointed from another dead end. "I don't like it here anyway. Baby brother's getting chummy with the locals, isn't he?"

"Well..."

"That means yes." She groaned.

"I'm more worried about other habits your brother has. Ways in which he has controlled your behavior before..." Jinx gave her a mildly warning reminder.

"So a bunch of humans turn loony. They're all nut cases. I don't know why he thinks people notice a difference." Glory blew through pouted lips, breath tossing a curl from her pretty, cruel features.

"Because they're no longer themselves, Mighty One!"

Glory gave him a sinister glare. "You're right. These bodies are shells. It's the thoughts that have all the power. Sweet, sweet, sparking power. Oohhh." She let herself have a delicious little shiver. "Fine. If he's worried- we'll move. Again. Let's go see where the next 'hotspot' is." She dragged Jinx by his sash down the stairs, in search of her priests and their scrying fires.

* * *

"So- how does this work? Is it like reverse scrying?" Spike uneasily stood in the doorway, waiting. This was Tara's old room, now shared by the two witches. He'd never been invited inside before, and he didn't know if they realized he lacked an invitation, or were debating on issuing one.

In Willow's case, she was just busy, grabbing her supplies, and Buffy was clutching the box to her chest protectively, with wide watchful eyes. Tara was the one who seemed to be concentrating on him.

Reading him.

She didn't seem in the least surprised by what she saw, what she'd always seen, a human aura with streaks of other power throughout. Tara smiled, almost shyly. "Y-you can come in."

"Ta." Spike gave her a half-smile he only barely masked with a grimace, tossing off his heavy coat and plopping himself down cross legged on the floor. "Mind the candles. I don't want to combust during a 'research' session. I'd never live it down."

Buffy put the Dagon in the center of a circle Willow was drawing, and Tara marked four spaces, one with a streak of black coal that cracked as she drew the symbol of a flame on the floor, placed a clod of earth beside it, next a drop of rosewater, and lastly a feather, so that each element was across from their elemental balance.

"This isn't like the spells we've done before." Tara explained quickly. "N-not all the same. We're just calling up the elements. They'll come to us, infuse us with power, and the Dagon should react, glow brighter, something. If it responds to the elements in its midst."

"Wouldn't it anyway?"

"Not if it's not made from elemental sources. If it's some demon magic-y thingy it won't. Or even some white magic, but not old ways. I'm right, right?" Willow checked with her mentor who nodded with a sweet smile.

"We're not channeling power into the sphere, we're not using a casting stone. This time we're calling up the power- for us." Tara gracefully sank to her knees.

Buffy was the last to sit, somewhat nervously. "But - I already have a lot of power. I don't want a power surge, okay?"

"It's not that kind of surge." Tara said quickly, and then said no more. Not about that.

"Ready?"

"The sooner it's done the better." Spike growled.

"Do we have to touch that thing?" Buffy suddenly demanded. Spike couldn't. And if she had to explain why...

"No. Just hold hands."

"Well, move your feather, Red, I wanna hold Slayer's hand, not yours." Spike tried to joust for position and Willow elbowed him in the knee.

"Spike, stop pushing."

"But-"

Tara's fingers gripped his hard, suddenly, scaring her more than she'd admit. Cool but not cold. Something slightly stiffer in the texture of his skin, and the fingers were hard, they could break her bones with no effort.

He hadn't hurt her yet, never had. She didn't think he ever would. He fell silent, hand laid in hers, then in the other one's, but his eyes locked on Buffy's.

"Promise not to bite." She tried to joke, to raise a ghost of a smile.

No one responded.

Tara's voice began to chant, a smooth, bell-like tolling in her words, "Four forces, I entreat you. We join hands to form a circle, unbreakable, as no element survives without the others."

They'd done this before, months ago. Very different circumstances, but the same electrical tingle ran across their skins.

"We seek the power of the forces to enter us, to join us." Tara's voice was no longer the solemn, almost afraid to be heard whisper, either.

Spike's nostril's twitched. White hot magic, pure magic, something his demon shied away from, and his human side was marveling at. They called her the channeler or something, those dream voices, he recalled.

"Earth." She summoned.

_They were right. This one is special. Something old and powerful inside a wise old soul. _

"Air." Willow's voice was different, too. Not what it had been. More powerful, more commanding, more- dangerous. Still good, but Spike could feel the blaze of her magic as soon as she opened her mouth. _When she calls for an element, it bloody well comes. _

Buffy felt her hand squeezed, and she jumped. "Oh! Fire." She was too busy watching the Dagon, watching Spike.

"Water, then." Spike tossed off carelessly.

"Four of your four kinds entreat you... Call you..." Tara's voice worked through the suddenly airless room.

Buffy swallowed. It felt as though the room was saturated with something tense, waiting, that a single sudden motion might trigger some explosion.

Tara leaned her head back, and Willow mirrored her. Spike and Buffy's heads remained forward, looking at each other across the orb.

One final whispered command, "Come into us."

Snap.

Winds rushed, seas raged, fires roared, and the earth rose, and yet nothing moved inside the room, except for rapidly beating hearts, or in Spike's cage, his chest jerking forward with a spasm of pure, unadulterated power.

The Dagon however, stayed in its box, silent and unchanging.

"What the hell?" Spike demanded, gasping. "There wasn't a bloody roller coaster last time!"

"Shh! That time we placed the power in the stone- now we have it trying to settle into us."

"Concentrate." Willow hissed. "You have to ride it out until it's balanced."

"Earth." Tara's call was quick and like the downbeat of an elemental symphony, sparking the chain, passing the melody on.

"Air."

"Fire."

"Water."

"Earth."

"Air."

"Fire."

"Water."

"Earth..."

* * *

"Where on earth is my _Compendium Astronicum_?" Giles demanded irritably. "I just had it!"

"Look under your _Scrolls of Pylimon_." Anya said in a vacant voice, concentrating on something in the thick book before her.

"You have no idea how freaky it is to hear you guys talk like that." Xander muttered. "Scroll this, Compendium that. What we need is an index of 'things bad guys use, things good guys use, and ambiguous, glowing things'."

"Stick to protective objects, pre-A.D.." Giles shifted papers around. "Though I agree. Our cross-referencing list didn't get very far this summer. Ah well. A project for cold winter nights."

"You mean when it gets to be sixty?" Xander kidded.

"That's cold enough for here. Plus, all the rain." He sighed. They might not have snow, but they often had rain in the winter months. It quite reminded him of England. "Tea, biscuits, Joyce and I watching Hepburn and Grant..."

"If that is what your fantasies turn into when you hit forty, I'm looking for some eternal youth potion while I'm at it." Xander teased, and flipped yet another incomprehensible page.

"Hush, or I'll make you learn Latin." Giles said with no venom. They shared a half-smile.

"We got the extremely condensed version of a Slayer dream. Old, protective, must be protected thing, formerly in custody of monks. Giles- what order of monks, did she tell you?"

He hedged, suddenly very intrigued by a page. "I- I haven't been able to ascertain anything about that.I'm planning to call a contact of mine at the Council as a final resource. I know they won't take gladly to sharing the information though, if they have it."

"So you knew a couple weeks ago, too?" Xander frowned. "Man. She never... Buff _always_ tells us when something is up. We're first responders to the big evil. As soon as something comes on the Slay-dar, we're informed."

"You don't know that." Anya pointed out. "Only what she tells you."

"Well, I trust her!"

"I know. Me too!" Anya looked up, injured. "I just meant, I'm sure there have been times when she waited to tell you something bad was going on, maybe because she wasn't sure what it was. Or that you'd flip out at her. You do that sometimes."

"I do not!" Giles and Anya gave him "looks". "Okay, fine, I do! But only in my right as heart of the group and lover of all things Buffy and not evil."

"Perhaps there was simply not time." Perhaps you only see half, and perhaps she wants to protect you.

"The only time she ever held out on us was when Angel did his 'back from hell' reunion tour. And I know why. Still pissed me off."

"That was intensely personal and difficult for her. You can't think Angel has-"

"NO!" Anya and Xander's voices joined, loud and emphatic. Giles stared, eyebrows raised.

"You haven't somehow seen Angel lately? Or staked him, have you?" He asked with a slightly worried frown.

"No." The twin reply, much quieter, still emphatic.

Xander added. "Not 'lately'."

"I've enough to deal with now, tell me another time." Giles groaned.

Anya came over beside her sweetheart and kissed his on top of the sexy curl of bangs that she loved. "Whenever it's been really bad, she's told you, right? Adam, the Mayor, whatever else happened that I don't remember..."

Xander nodded and squeezed her hand. "Just kinda feeling the lack of Scooby vs. Evil here. I feel like it's Spike and Buffy vs. Evil - how wrong is that- and _then _Scoobies."

"Surely there have been things you've waited to tell Buffy." Giles' voice was casual, but his eyes were pointed. They met Xander's and seared into him. "Surely there are things you know, or have information on- but that you've waited to reveal?"

Xander blinked.

_Everyone dead. Willow insane. The screaming girl, the hysterical woman, Spike insane... That was only a dream. I mean, a big ass significant dream maybe. But I can't tell them that! Giles can't tell everything he saw in the dream either._

_ Mine is the biggest big bad. Death. Death how and by who I don't know, and don't care. It just needs not to happen, and it's not something to freak everyone out with because it's only a possibility. Spike has to stay, without him, somehow everything goes wrong. _

_ If Spike and Buffy get closer, if she confides in him first sometimes- you know what? I'm okay with that. Get close. Crazy glue close. "Bonded" to quote Anya. _

"You're right." Xander said with a sudden calm, rather unexpected maturity in his tone. "I trust Buffy." _And I know what it's like not to share something. For awhile._

* * *

"Air."

"Fire."

"Water."

"Earth."

"Air."

"Fire."

"Water."

The pounding rush mellowed. No longer caught in it, it was caught in them. Hands stayed locked one more second as the elements found their matches and anchored inside.

* * *

"Holy crap, look at that!" Glory almost knocked over a priest as a swirl of light suddenly sprouted on their "map."

"What in the- Here, Mage, pinpoint that area!"

A burst of light lit up the lower part of their scrying fires, a great beam of flame pure energy, set their small world on fire.

"Now_ that's_ energy. Pure energy, and it's new. It's gotta be the Key." Glory squealed and rubbed her hands in expectation. "Where is it? Where's that place?"

The Mage who'd been summoned looked up, thoroughly puzzled, and addressed the full room. "It is the Hellmouth."

In the back, two figures gasped and elbowed each other, but their cries went unnoticed in the midst of everyone else's confused murmuring.

"A what? Hellmouth? No. No, it can't be."

"But it is. It is the Hellmouth. Something very great and good must be there to shine in the midst of such evil."

There was. One of the powerful conduits of white magic. Tara.

A slayer with her Radiant power pulsing in a maelstrom of energy.

A new witch, with power yet untapped, but power that rolled off her in waves and filled the air she embraced.

Lastly- a Key that was hidden, and slumbered on. Oddly enough, though Spike was involved, the flare they saw had nothing to do with his new soul directly, simply the elemental whirlwind he was riding.

"Does the Slayer not guard the Hellmouth?" A cautious, anonymous voice proffered.

Glory's hands stopped their happy rubbing and made fists. "She can't hold the Key. The monks wouldn't be that stupid. Slayers get killed too easily, battling the two-bit demons. She wouldn't stand a chance against me."

"But she is there, in the town. Perhaps they figured she would be obligated to battle you, if you came to seek it."

"Pfft. Little human girl, hurt me?"

No one said anything.

Glory said it for them. "Oh. Yeah." A nasty, hurtful smile. "The closer I get to my time for being 'reborn', the more human I get, the more 'hurt' I can be."

Jinx weighed in, frowning, hating to see his goddess unhappy. "She may not even be a part of this matter. She may simply be there. A coincidence. The monks might have put it on a Hellmouth, a place of great evil, knowing it would be the last place we'd consider looking. The Slayer has been there for months, years perhaps, but with Slayers dying so easily, they wouldn't have bet on her being around." Everyone joined in with agreeing words, nodding to one another, not knowing that this Slayer was different. Not one lone figure, but part of a whole made up of powerful friends, people protecting the protector.

Glory smiled. "Such sweet little scabs." She crooned to her faithful minions. "Alright then. Here's the plan- find the town, find the Key, avoid the girl- for now. Unless she's the one hiding the Key from me." Her eyes glowed with malice. No one moved all staring worshipfully at her. "Pack the bags! let's go! Road trip!"

* * *

"Whoa." Buffy got to her knees, fell back to her rear with a thud, and then collapsed onto her back. She looked to the side and saw Willow was in the same position.

"Good, huh?"

"That's- should I feel like this?"

"Not once you're used to it." Tara pulled Buffy up, and Spike was already on his feet, blinking, and shaking his head slowly.

"Feels bloody amazing."

"Well, yeah, but also dizzy-ish." Buffy and Willow staggered and giggled a little. Buffy frowned abruptly. "But nothing happened with the ball. It's still just- a ball."

"It's not made from elemental magic, then. It's some different kind of energy." Tara gave her opinion.

"So that was a wash out and now we're all suped up." Suped up put it mildly. If he was the water sign, then the best way he could describe it was to say he was made of frantic, thrashing waves that were drowning him in a sea of energy- with no outlet.

Buffy could relate. She felt hot, feverish, urgently burning. "What do witches do with all this? Besides sweat." Buffy fanned herself.

"Once you're used to is, once you're better at balancing, it's not so overwhelming." Tara encouraged, looking a little worried.

"Usually it's a power boost for more difficult spells." Willow was steady now. Well- outwardly. Magic was still a rush, and she might be balanced within her own element, but she was still looking for her anchor. She gave a significant look over at Tara, who hid a blush. To cover it, she continued Willow's explanation.

"People call on the elements to do spells in the old ways, or just great feats of magic if you want. In our case, we just did it for the purpose of seeing if the Dagon was something elemental and it's obviously not."

"What do you think it is?" Willow asked Tara, but Spike answered.

"Older. Much older."

"Okay, so what do we do?" Buffy said with an edge of frustration in her voice. Frustrated for multiple reasons.

"Go back and research." Willow shrugged.

"You lot can do that, if you can manage to sit still. I have to get this damned energy off. Need a good kill." Spike said. And lied. Buffy knew it. She felt the same.

Buffy nodded. "Hey, can you call Giles? Ask him to end the research for now, and we'll take a different track tomorrow?"

"Sure, but-"

"Someone should get home to Mom, and I need to slay something first."

Spike barely met her eyes, afraid they'd ignite. Oh she could slay him. Get inside him, pierce him, make him burst into a thousand droplets of wet heat, not ash... "I'll help." He offered, no masking the heat in his voice.

"Yeah, we'll call." Willow agreed.

With a few more words exchanged, the couples separated.

* * *

Willow dialed the phone. Behind her, Tara slowly piled her flowing hair into a loose bun before she bent to scrub the circle from the floor, beautiful round hips gently swaying as she moved.

"Pick up the phone... pick up the phone..."

* * *

"We'll meet tomorrow then. Jellies? Yes, three in a dozen should do it. Thank you, Willow." Giles hung up after his brief call. "It didn't respond to their elemental casting. They imagine it must be even older."

"What's older than old ways?" Xander groaned.

"I don't know." Giles sighed. "Not right now, at least. We'll try again tomorrow. For now, we all need to get home."

"But you're here." Anya pointed out.

"Well, technically..."

Anya smiled. "Oh. I just got it. Home is where the heart is." She nodded and looked at Xander. "I get that now."

Giles smiled in return. _Home is where Joyce is._ "Indeed. Where the heart is."

* * *

"That counted as patrol, right?" Buffy and Spike ran and raced through the night, across campus, across town, to the crypt.

"Sure thing, Heart." His heart, his soul, his other half. "Anything seen us coming would decide to be good tonight."

She carried the box inside the crypt and down the ladder, scrambling but smooth, then hiding it securely inside their weapons chest. "I hope so. Because the only vamp I feel like attacking is you."

"Hope you mean that friendly..." He was behind her, arms around her torso, under her breasts, hands squeezing.

"Oh very friendly. Very, very." Buffy shrugged out of her denim jacket and reached back to pull on his sleeves. "Do I feel hot?"

"Always." He assured, licking the beating pulse of her jugular.

"No, like really hot. Burning."

He turned her to face him in the darkness, and out of nowhere his lighter appeared and lit a single wick of their many candles. "On fire, Luv?"

"Mhmm." Clothes needed to come off. Heat had to be shed.

"Want me to put you out?" He was almost salivating. Something primal, something animal in her scent, and in his needs.

"Oh, yes." She nodded, hands ripping across his clothes, untucking, pulling off, yanking down, as he worked on hers.

"Good. Because I think I'm drowin' in you. Need you to pull me out of this ocean."

"Not pull out, just balance." Buffy recalled Willow and Tara's words in a blinding haze of lust.

"Balance." He nodded, as they lost theirs, falling heavily to the bed.

* * *

There were no books they needed, no spells that would help that they could think of. Not that they could think.

Willow was windswept, desperate, clinging to avoid being blown outside of herself. "Tara..."

"Come here." She smiled warmly. All of her was warm. Comforting. Comfortable. More comfortable than ever.

Willow never thought she'd something like a goddess in real life. Her baby glowed, she was the white hot magic in the room... in the world. Lying naked on the floor, relaxed, all glorious curves, and open arms.

Willow was the one riding the wind, but it blew her safely home. Slender waist between soft thighs, brushing them together as they kissed, as they channeled their mutual energy together, rocking hip to hip until strands of magic fused an arc that went deep inside them both.

"Wow." Tara gasped as the light filled her belly. She looked up at the strong, scarlet haired beauty who was lost in her.

"More wow." Willow caressed the face below hers. "I love you."

"Love you!"

Buried.

Lifting.

Secure.

Floating.

Willow collapsed on top of her, rocking feverishly, filling the beam expanding inside her, inside both of them, locking them together in pleasure. Where you're finally safe and loved and you feel perfect the way you are. _Home._

Tara's soul soared, Willow lifted it. _Free._

* * *

She burnt, she shook, and sparks caressed him anywhere she touched.

He quenched her, cooled her, bathed her in kisses.

_She saves me. _

_ He saves me._

Protecting in an unending circle, that was more ruthless and passionate than they'd ever imagined it could be, and still the safest thing in a very scary, uncertain world.

"Better?"

"Not yet." Buffy panted, rolling from on top of him to under him. "Soak up this heat."

"Oh it's not just in your skin. Not even just inside your hot, little box." He speared her open again, cool cock ravaging her harder than usual, making juice drip down this thighs, puddle down her cheeks.

"It's everywhere in me. Burning for you."

"Drowning for you. In you." His eyes suddenly turn to their golden shade, and he gripped her thighs hard, rutting in her, a beast needing to be fed. "Drowning in you, Slayer."

"Bring you back to shore." She was with him in the lust department. Whatever they'd awakened, their auras, their elements, maybe even those sneaky old powers inside them, they were hungry and they wouldn't settle down until they were satisfied. "Bring you back to life."

"Already did." He assured her, and leaned down, flattened to her.

Buffy winced pleasurably as his kisses fell on her soft throat, her hot, feverish skin. Pricks of fangs dotting her, but not hurting her. She knew she loved him, in all his forms, she just couldn't remember ever having such an intense, prolonged session while the demon was in control.

_Spike's always in control of his demon._ She smiled and relaxed, tongue deep inside his mouth, darting past sharp edges.

"Cumming." She gasped out momentarily.

"Thank God."

They assumed it would settle their internal rages.

They were wrong.

"More. More." Orgasm sent her into a whole new level of heat, a new level of craving him.

He craved her just as badly. Demon and human faces swapped a few times, human face buried under her thighs as she rocked herself helplessly on his mouth, demon face out as he dragged her wrists under his hands and nuzzled her neck hungrily.

"What do you need?" They asked, almost in unison.

"You." Spike answered. "All I need."

"Take me. Then take me. I'm gonna burst from the inside out, boiling." She lifted her neck and felt the prickle almost instantly, no questioning from him this time. _Because he trusts me, I trust him. He's the other half, we'll give each other what we need._

Her blood almost scalded him, but he gladly drank it down, pulling in sip after sip, motions below still hard and fast, but slowing as they relaxed.

_Better than mother's milk... heart's blood. _

"Better. Better now." Buffy whispered. The painful edge of pulsing was gone, and she relaxed.

He was no longer tossed about in his own sea, she was his dry land, warm, safe. "Mm. Better." He sipped once, sipped again, and swallowed. Warm and full. Oddly satisfied. He licked her neck and the wounds began to close. "That was okay?"

"That was perfect."

She moved under him, pumping him inside her, the frenzy slowed, passion remaining. "Not drowning now?"

"No. There's this girl- saves the lost ones, brings them home, out of the depths."

Buffy's eyes welled up suddenly. "Do anything to save you."

"I know." He bowed his head, rocking hips to hers heard to finish, drive them over the brink. "But you won't have to. We're gonna take care of each other."

He burst, she flooded, and they fell into an almost exhausted sleep, connected more than ever, one fire extinguished, a different sort of heat in its place.

* * *

_To be continued..._


	25. Part XXIV

** Unknown **

**By Sweetprincipale**

_This is set in my non-canon, but canon-esque series following Uncontrollable and Unmentionable. If you haven't read those first, please do, or this won't read nearly as well or make much sense. Unknown begins a few weeks after the end of Unmentionable, around the beginning of season five._

_Author's notes: Sorry for the delay. Story juggling. Bear with me on this chapter. It's full of discussion, thoughts, and some sudden motions, but that's life. And this story isn't just about taking on some big bad, it's about people trying to have the things everyone wants- a healthy, happy normal life, with a person they love. I hope you enjoy my efforts. _

_Author's Second Note: Voting is open at Sunnydale Memorial Awards. A bunch of my pieces, including this one, have been nominated. Go vote if you'd like to show some support for the stories and the stories of so many other talented writers. Thank you._

_Dedicated to: Alexiarrose, CavemenFTW, skeezixx, ginar369, Sirius120, omslagspapper, Annamonk, Jewel74, Alottalove, kerry220, jackiemack916, DidiSummers and kse93. I have no words for how much your kindness means to me._

_Direct Quotes are obviously not mine, but belong to the fabulously talented and creative people who wrote them. In this case, some of season five's dialogue will be used. _

_**Disclaimer: Nothing of Buffy belongs to me, except my sincere admiration. However, this story is all mine.**_

**Part XXIV**

"Ding dong, Avon calling." Spike entered the house with a push on the door, striding in, out of the sun. He realized, that in his mind, he had begun to call it "Joyce's", not Buffy's. 'Cause Buffy and him, they already had a home of their own. He was more content, more sure of them, than anything he'd ever been in his life, especially after last night's little "elemental exercise".

"Good morning." Giles greeted him in the hall with an eye roll, sipping coffee hurriedly, and straightening his tie.

"My my. Don't we look tweedy today." Spike snarked and entered. "Aren't you a bit done up to go to the shop?"

Giles didn't say he was planning to call the Council by the end of that day. Nor did he say that he'd unthinkingly dressed in his most "proper" suit, and just now realized it when Spike mentioned it. "I'm the 'expert art consultant' in your stead." Giles smiled thinly, and ushered him into the dining room, making sure the blinds were closed.

"Demon gal knows how to turn a profit, give you that." Spike chuckled. "Some bigwig buyer due today?"

"No." Giles drained his coffee. _Just some bigwigs I hope will toss me a scrap of information. Dear Lord, I even dressed the part. Look at me, in my "power suit"._ He adjusted his tie with another agitated tug. "I hope you've eaten, I just realized we have coffee, but no blood."

"Full up." Spike swung his leg over a chair, and propped one boot on another as he got comfy. Slayer blood must be original power drink, with only a few sips, he felt like he'd devoured ten men. "I won't go snackin' on anyone." He smirked.

Giles gave him an icy glare. "Don't joke."

"Sorry." Spike replied- then blustered. "I mean- evil. I'll joke about it all I want. But I won't- yeah. Well. I jus' wouldn't."

The ice thawed. "I know." Giles sighed. "Joyce's still asleep. She's better than she was, but she still..." How to put it delicately? "There's still moments when she seems unclear."

"No appointment today, is there?"

"No, tomorrow. But, with Buffy at class and the others working or at the college, I thought it wouldn't hurt to have someone here."

"Agreed."

They stared. Vampire spilling out of his coat, lazing arrogantly in a chair, curator-librarian-Watcher turned art consultant, standing stiff and formal above him. "Wonders never cease." Giles raised a single eyebrow and turned, walking into the kitchen. "She may well kick you out."

"Hope she doesn't. It's sunny."

"If she says she's fine-"

"Yeah, well, Slayer'll say she's fine when her world is crumbling and she's been pounded into flank steak. 'Fine' is relative with these two."

Giles yelped and dropped his rinsed mug with a clatter onto the drainboard, as Spike was suddenly, noiselessly behind him. "Don't do that!"

He smiled broadly. "I can make myself agreeable, when I want to. I'll look after her."

As odd as it was, Giles found that very comforting to know as he headed out. "I'm sure you will."

Spike nodded, and began rummaging about for a coffee cup of his own. "Return the favor. Look out for my girl, alright?" He asked, without meeting the other man's eyes.

Researching. Calling. Possibly groveling. There were many ways to 'look after' Buffy indirectly. Spike knew that. "I will."

* * *

"Will you put those away? It's bad for business!" Anya rushed at Giles and Tara with a dust cloth and a scowl. "You'll freak out the customers!"

Tara guiltily began to close one of the stack of books Giles had brought with him to the store that day. Giles did not, instead calmly flipping a page.

"What customers would those be?" He peered down at something, and motioned casually for Tara to continue reading as well.

"We don't have any now. Probably because they don't know how much wonderful art and expert knowledge we have inside. Hey- if I put up a chair and a display easel outside, we could sit you out there and have you start talking about-"

"No."

"But-"

"I'm a former curator, not a mime. I don't do performance art. I don't want people throwing money at me as I write up provenances." Giles muttered.

"They throw money?" Anya's eyes widened and almost glowed. "Tara, would you like to-"

"Anya!" Giles snapped. "We have to multi-task. Research while the shop isn't busy."

"Easy for you to say. Art isn't as profitable as other stuff." Anya huffed and left them alone at the back counter.

* * *

"Rupert?" Joyce's confused voice called down the stairs. She woke up alone. After years of waking up in that same state, and just a few weeks of waking up with someone beside her, she felt off kilter.

Which matched the rest of her world. She stood slowly, woozily, and the room rapidly tilted sideways. "Great." She chuckled and shook her head. _From strong, independent woman to needing a walker in just one easy tumor..._

"I'm not Rupert, but will another Englishman do?" Spike's voice, uncomfortably close, just outside her door, scared her and made her jump. Spike could hear her heartbeat suddenly increase and he kicked himself. "Sorry to startle you. I know you don't have a doctor's appointment or anything today, but thought you might want some company. Rupes let me in." He explained quickly, almost apologetically.

Joyce rose again, hastily, grabbing her robe, tightening her scarf, reaching for that preposterously Farrah Fawcett style wig Buffy and Anya had picked out for her...

Spike winced as he heard things clattering, a little grunt, and a strained cry of "Just a minute!"

"I can wait downstairs!"

"Do that."

So he did.

* * *

It was one of those extremely long fifteen minutes that feels like two hours. If he could have chain smoked without bringing down the wrath of the lady of the house, he would've finished half a pack. "Joyce?" He finally called up.

"Right there!" Her muffled shout came down, and was shortly followed by the woman herself, dressed in faded blue sweats and with some skillfully applied make up.

_Always the gentlewoman. Right to the end._ Spike's memories of his mother's pale, but perfect face marred with Joyce's, and he cursed vehemently in his head. _There's no end this time! No end. Not now_. "Don't you look fetching. New style?"

"New hair." Joyce tugged the pale blue silk scarf over her wig down more tightly.

"Ah." _Of all the things I could've opened with..._

"Are you hungry?" Joyce asked, ever the maternal hostess. Then winced slightly. _And what if he is? Are you going to go bleed a steer for him? Of all the dangerous things to say..._

"I'm full." Spike smiled slightly, though trying to look reassuring. He just wouldn't say where he'd gotten his meal. He cleared his throat. "Thought you might be peckish. Eggs? Toast?"

"Toast, please." Joyce shuddered at the thought of eggs.

"Off your food?" He asked sympathetically.

"Everything about me is 'off' these days." Joyce admitted ruefully.

"Well, tea and toast has sorted most of the British empire's troubles..." Spike was to his feet and off into the kitchen before she could even make her unsteady way to the couch.

"You sound so much like Rupert sometimes." Joyce admitted with a laugh.

"Bloody hell." Spike swore softly and began filling the pot.

* * *

The conversation was stilted. A few easy moments flowed, the rest was guarded and polite. Joyce didn't actually feel "afraid" of him. More like wary. She also kept looking at him, trying to peer inside the monster, see if there was a man underneath.

Spike squirmed. That look. She was trying to see right through him, see the clockworks- the secrets ones. It made him edgy, less civil than he should have been. _I shouldn't be 'civil' anyway! Vampire. Evil. Demon._

Lonely. Missing her, or someone like her. Loving someone more than this cautious woman would ever know, and loving her by extension because of it.

"Don't you have to go to sleep?" Joyce's voice demanded suddenly.

"Huh?"

"Sleep. Daylight."

"Oh. I-uh- I can keep goin' when I need to." _Slayer blood. The superhuman's energy drink. _

Joyce envied him for a moment. Never having to worry about tiring, about ailing, about... dying. Unless someone like Buffy killed him. He made sure _that _would never happen. Suspicions chased each other around her already dizzy, tired mind, until the overwhelming exhaustion made her simply say, "You're lucky."

"Oh, I know." Spike said with a cocky grin. "I like this form. The speed. The strength." He stopped there.

"Must be nice." Joyce said dully, but her eyes seemed to sharpen, more alert, more- mistrustful.

_Shit._ Spike smoothed back his already perfect shining sheath of platinum. "Well... I have a reason, see. Lived in Victoria's time- one of her weedier subjects. Not that strong. A gentleman never runs, so I don't know if I was fast. I was smart. Kept that." He tapped his cranium.

She smiled, cocked her head as she watched him start talking, always gazing at his hands, as if he wasn't spilling his secrets if he didn't acknowledge the other person in the room. "Smart?"

"I went to University. I was going to be a poet. Like Keats. Or Shelley. Even Byron. That's who I wanted to be like. Byron. Romantic, dashing, a wooer of words. Only not so miserable and without syphilis. An' not dyin' so young, either."

Joyce sat up slightly. That obviously hadn't worked, because here he sat, unbreathing, frozen in time. "So what happened?"

"Misery won out one night." He met her eyes for the first time in several minutes.

That was an odd thing to say, an odd way to phrase it. Or maybe, Joyce thought, I'm just too foggy to understand him.

"Dyin' young, but livin' forever. That's the dream. Thought it would be through my words not- not _myself. _But then I wouldn't have met Buffy, would I?" Spike finished with a grin.

"The fact that my baby is dating someone who should have died- no, _did_ die, but came back as some sort of half-human- a hundred years ago..." Joyce shook her head, clearly displeased with that notion, and pretended she didn't see the spasm of pain on his face. _Monsters don't feel pain._

_ He's not all monster. He's part man. _

_ A man who doesn't leave her. And that's what made him real_. She thought back to that conversation she had with Giles several days ago, weeks ago. _Real men don't leave. _

_ He thinks misery, early death, and even staying in this half-life is worth it, just so he had a chance to meet her. _

As she softened, he toughened. Snark, sneers, smirks, all a good mask, and not as lumpy and scary as his other one. "Yeah, well, the way Slayer studies- good thing I've seen a century and a half, alive an' dead. Consider me her walkin' talkin' tutorial on history. Know a fair bit about other things, too."

Joyce smiled faintly. "She has such problems with studying."

"Don't have to tell me. I understand though. When you've got somethin' nasty to hunt, the rise of Buddhism and the Impressionists seem pretty dull."

A sudden little twinge inside a weary brain, a passion that was still there, just buried under invoices and single parenting- "You- you lived through the Impressionistic period. You were _there_."

"Impressionists, and after. I met Van Gogh once. Bloody gloomy, though."

"You met-? _ How_?"

_I think we ate someone and took their invitation to a garret party in Paris_. "A party. He wasn't famous then. Just a struggling artist." _An' I used to be a struggling poet. Dru just liked to play about on rooftops, closer to the stars so she could hear 'em whisper._

"You never told me any of this."

"You never seemed to want to chat about, well, _me_." He flashed a wider smile before, one that was slightly mischievous, an acknowledgement that he knew why she treated him with civility and some consideration- and nothing more.

"I thought it'd be hours of you listing people you killed." Joyce gave him a pointed look.

"Done other things. Seen other things." He admitted with a shrug.

"Really? Tell me."

* * *

"Hmm... Hm?... Oh!" Giles sat up excitedly, unbending his spine from its bookworm crouch over a heavy volume.

"Are you going to make noises like a baboon or tell us?" Anya hissed, and looked anxiously at a customer entering the shop. "And ix-nay on the ooky-spay ounding-say uff-stay!"

Giles ignored her instructions, pointed excitedly at some very fine print. "It's here in the _Rarissimus Omniscium Objectium_." He held out the book to Tara. "It's a mere footnote, but it's here."

"Finally! What is it, where's it from, what's it do?" Anya demanded.

Tara squinted and read aloud in a hushed voice. "The so-named Dagon Sphere has a history going back many centuries, beyond early - early recall?" The print was faded and spidery.

"Meaning they don't know it's origin, keep going." Giles hurried her on.

"A protective device, believed to be contained, but not fashioned-"

"So they stuck it- whatever it is- in the golden bouncy ball, but they didn't make the magic inside, I'm following you." Anya nodded, then belied her words by turning attentively back to the patron who'd just entered.

"A protective device to ward off ancient primordial evil." Tara finished a sentence and looked up. "Primordial?"

Giles knew she was not asking him the meaning, rather repeating the information incredulously, worriedly. "Yes. primordial. Before life. Our kind of life anyway."

"A-at least it protects." Tara nodded and stammered shakily. "P-primordial magic. That's older than the old ways. That's- that's - Giles, what could it ward off? Demons?"

He shook his head after a moment. "Demons have names. I had thought, perhaps, it was evil itself. We have- hrm- faced that before. Not pleasant." He polished his glasses with a sudden nervous gesture. "But had that been the case, I don't believe the term 'primordial' would be used. Evil is usually simply called- erm- evil." He replaced the spectacles and peered over her shoulder, pointing to the painfully small writing. "It is believed to repel That Which Cannot Be Named."

"Something that you can't name? That has no name?" Tara felt an uncomfortable knot of ice slip down her spine and land in her stomach. "Things which have no voice..." Her wide eyes were suddenly frightened, and looking past him, through him.

_I am a Channeler. A Conduit. They call me, chose me, to speak for them, because they have no words. No language. No name. _

"Tara, it's only to ward off evil- that is something you will never be. No matter who says it. They can say something a million times. It doesn't make it true." Giles bent his knees, letting his head become level with the book, seeking out her downcast eyes.

"I- I speak for things which have no voice. No name." Tara repeated aloud.

"You speak for that which has no language- but there are names." He reached for her hand, and the deftly rested on the book instead. "The Dagon doesn't repel you."

"No... not yet."

"Tara, my dear girl." He was forced to smile. "You may be wise beyond your years, you may even be what we call an 'old soul'- but you are hardly 'primordial'."

* * *

It went so well. For an hour, maybe a bit longer, they were two old friends, from the cultured set by the sounds of it, rambling on about this and that. A cuppa and a sandwich, a talk show on in the background, her on the couch, him sprawled inelegantly in a high backed chair.

Then, as if someone flipped a switch, it changed. Joyce put down her mug with a laugh, and looked over towards the television as a commercial came on, and let out a pained moan. "Why do they make those ads so bright?" She demanded, wincing, shielding her eyes with her hand. "Spike, that's too bright. It's too bright, turn that off."

"Right-o." He moved like a flash, turning it off, and settling back, only to hear her take a sharp breath in, a deep, pained sound. "Joyce?"

"The lights! It's too bright, it's too bright!"

"I'll get the lights, just a second." Spike tried to sound soothing, but he thought he heard an edge of panic in his voice instead. Soon the living room was dark, only daylight outlining the curtained windows made a break in the shady room.

"You missed one!" Joyce spoke accusingly.

The sudden change gave him the chills. Everything about this, actually, gave him the chills. The room steeped in shadows...all sickbeds and parlors were like this. His mum's had been. Her eyes hurt her too, at the end. But she'd still been sweet- until the mistake he made. Then, hard, angry, insinuating...

"Are you trying to hurt me?"

"What? No!" _I only wanted to make you well... Make her well._

"Then put that out! I won't have it in here, I told you!" She pointed a finger at him, eyes open a mere sliver.

"I'll leave. I'll leave, if you want, Luv." Spike soothed. "Let me get Buffy. Or Giles. You want Buffy or-"

"Don't patronize me, just put out that fire! What are you smoking, a flame thrower?" Joyce gave a sudden fretful whimper and stared at him.

"I'm not smoking!"

"Oh, you. I know about you. Glowing. Glowing, glowing, glowing, hurting my eyes. But it's _your _eyes that glow, I've seen them, I've seen them outside the house, lurking there, waiting for her, with their bright yellow eyes..."

"Joyce." Spike kept calm, and cursed his soul. Would it have given him the godawful shivers if he'd been nothing but demon? A mother's gaunt face, changing, haunted him always. _So don't blame the soul. _"Joyce, no one is gonna hurt Buffy. 'Specially not me. An' I'm not smokin' and my eyes- I'm in my human face, they're blue, see?" He came closer to her, and she recoiled.

Her voice was hectoring, fast, more to herself than to him now. "She thinks I didn't see it, but I did. When they change. It's not your eyes. Your not just a monster. _You're_ real. You're _real_. I talked to Rupert, and you're both real, you and him, real because you won't leave." Joyce babbled, clutching her throw blanket tighter, like a frightened child.

"Shh. Shh, I won't leave, and I won't change, I promise."

"But you did. It's not your eyes glowing now, it's inside you."

Spike stiffened.

"Turn it off! Turn it _off_!"

He retreated several steps, put most of him back behind a chair, and stood, looking at her helplessly. "I don't think I have an off button, Joyce." He murmured.

Joyce let out a furious groan, and shifted, turning to face the back of the couch. "What's doing this?"

Wouldn't they all like to know. Why so far into her treatment she suddenly seemed worse? "Just a bit of healin'." He whispered, daring to come a little closer.

"What makes you _glow_?" She demanded impatiently, shaking her head.

Spike paused. _A soul. Monks. A "Key". Fate. A God with an odd sense of humor. But why? Why everything else?_

"Buffy." He said softly.

Her eyes flared open, and the light stung and flooded them for a second, before all she could divine was a soft sort of candle-like flicker from where he stood. "What?"

"I- she ... I never was in love. Before her. Not properly, not like this." He was improvising, yet, like so many of his brashest lies, there was some truth. He disliked having a soul thrust upon him, but he did like the awareness of his "soul mate". He had come to find, with it or without it, his other half, his perfectly matched girl... _The soul deepens everything. Everything was there before. We'd be fine without it. _But still, this "glow"? Had to be what makes his soul sing. And hadn't they given it to him because he was cleansed by love? "The glow, it's because of her."

"I never saw it before." Joyce pointed out accusingly.

_That's a fact._

"She thought you loved her before. Did you lie? Do you love her now, but didn't earlier ?"

"NO!" Spike shouted. Joyce jumped. "No." He repeated emphatically. "I loved her before, I loved her without the glow- I mean-" _Fuck this. I'm starting to sound like the wicca birds. _"Look, when one sense fails, right? Maybe another one takes over."

Joyce mulled this over briefly. Senses failing? Her brain was failing. _Without that, you have nothing. It controls everything. Everything would fail._ "Yes, I'm failing." She admitted bitterly.

"Not you. Not for long." Spike said with confidence he forced himself to feel. "But look, your body isn't at its best today, maybe it stopped puttin' up a barrier. Maybe your mind is letting you see more clearly because-"

"My eyes are worse. They're not better than before." Joyce refused to hear a sugarcoated lie. Not from him. Not today. Not about this.

"Not the eyes." Spike said through gritted teeth. "Not 'see' with your eyes. See as in 'understand'. See as in 'know'. What you see, it isn't really there, it's just- you know it's _there_." He failed miserably at explaining. He had a feeling that he'd done it before, too, a long, long time ago, failing to explain what another mother should do, should know.

"You see me glow... because she lights me up. From the inside out." Spike touched his chest. "Poet or not, Joyce, there is something to love that words can't describe, that just- there's an effulgence." He whispered. "Someone else saw it in me, a long time ago, but it wasn't real. The glow wouldn't stick. This, whatever you see, that's _real_. She's the fire inside me. I'll burn for her if I have to."

Joyce's warring mind, fighting against itself, waging an ever changing war, suddenly seemed to slow. That she could sometimes see a bright cluster around him, or in him, that made no sense, and even now, that impression was fading. Lucidity returned, and it banished the golden overtones she thought she'd seen. _Thought._ Key word. Side effects causing hallucinations.

"I'm sorry." Joyce said tiredly. "I don't know what came over me..." Her hand felt her forehead, now moist and warm. "What was I saying? No, never mind. Nonsense."

Spike began to protest, then stopped. Quickly as the fit had arrived, it had left, and thank bloody heaven. "You look feverish. You want the air on? Maybe an ice water?"

"Ice water. Yes." Joyce lay back, drowsy now, the room still faintly circling, but it was a normal room once more, not too bright, not full of strange lights.

Lights. It made no sense that she would see something "glowing" inside. Silliness.

But _was _there something shining in him?

"She lights up around you, too." Joyce mumbled sleepily as he came back, handing her the sweating glass.

"Hm?"

"Buffy. You light up for her. But she- she glows when you're around. She - you're so dark. But you make her shine. I can believe you'd shine back." She closed her eyes with a weary sigh.

"She's my fire." Spike confirmed, taking the glass from her suddenly limp fingers. "All in all, my flame..."

* * *

"It's older than elemental magic. Fire, water, air, earth- that's ancient. Those are the beginning elements of life."

"Ohhhh. Elemental. Duh. I can't believe I just got that." Xander said through a mouth full of powdered sugar and jam.

"Eat over the bin or use a napkin." Giles protectively took the book from Willow and Xander, who were reading as Tara clarified.

"What's older than the basis of the effing world?" Spike demanded.

"I said that! Only more politely, and softly, because I had some old lady deciding whether to buy that hideous yellow topaz ring Giles bought from an estate sale."

"Wait, I'm confused. You said older than the beginning of life, but, there _isn't_ anything older." Buffy swallowed her doughnut and protested.

"Haven't you been paying attention in your religions class?" Giles chided gently, without seriousness.

"I so have!"

"Before the world was made- someone had to think of how to make it." Anya snapped her fingers.

"But- but..." Buffy looked helplessly at her friends. "But there's a lot of ways people say the world was made! In Greek myths heaven and earth went all groin-y and boom- Titans. Or was that elephants? Whatever. Then you have God. And then you have Shiver, Ginsu, and the third guy. And we know there are the 'Powers that Be', which is maybe all of them, or none of them, or- oh hey, wait, isn't Ginsu a knife?"

"As seen on television." Xander said gravely.

"She means the Hindu creation story." Willow corrected.

"You've hit one nail on the head." Giles held up his hand. "There are many stories, and many realms, and many of them true. But I don't think Anya was saying this repelled a god."

"Thank- oh. I mean, that's good." Buffy looked relieved.

Tara hesitantly interjected, "He means before there were words, and before their were worlds- there were thoughts. Some living consciousness, some all powerful force... Ancient beings formed the elements from that. M-maybe. It's one way to l-look at it."

Xander shook his head. "You mean the orb-y whatsis can repel _thoughts_? What kind of use is that? How could you even check? You'd have to have someone thinking and know what they were thinking, to be able to tell you were repelling their thoughts. Pointless. And you'd need a psychic."

"No psychics needed in this group." Spike groaned. "Those two-" he pointed to Anya and Xander, "horny. Him, worried." He pointed to Giles. "Nervous, anxious, and you can't wait to make yourselves more anxious by studyin' up on the books." He pointed to Willow and Tara, and then ended with himself and Buffy, "Restless. Gotta kill somethin'. I was sittin' still all day. I can only play so many hands of gin rummy before I go barmy."

Silence filled the room. Anya broke it. "Yay me. Not the most blunt and awkward for a change."

Giles sighed and Buffy kicked Spike in the shin, mouthing "Apologize!", which he ignored. "I do need to get home. That is, to Joyce."

"We'll go. I will, it's my turn." Buffy jumped up quickly. "It's not late enough to patrol yet anyway."

"She was dead tired. Told me she might nap a few hours." Spike added.

"I think what you need to do is go back to that warehouse again. See if you can find any additional information. I don't think there is some 'psychic' monster out to get us, Xander, but there may be something. Something that works on a mental level. Affecting the mind first."

"Affecting the mind?" Spike suddenly looked interested again. "Like, making someone see what isn't there?"

"Hallucinate?" Buffy added in a barely audible voice, eyes getting rounder and more worried.

"Many things can cause that." GIles soothed. Buffy and Spike didn't look convinced. Giles gave Buffy a silent look that meant he had more to say, but couldn't. "Anya." He turned abruptly. "You've put in a full day. Let me lock up tonight."

"Well... it is Chinese and Kama Sutra night." Anya handed him the keys, which he took gingerly.

"Nailed it." Spike smirked. Xander blushed.

"We're going to see what we can find out from these." Willow hefted a few thick leather bound books. "If we can borrow them? Can we?"

"I suppose. Please be careful. They're hard to find, to say the least." Giles turned his attention meaningfully back to Buffy and Spike. "Since you're going home, as well Buffy, may I offer you a lift?"

"Sure. We'll wait 'til you close up." Buffy agreed and two by two, they scattered.

* * *

"You have to be more careful." Buffy clung to Spike's lapels.

"You were just as worried. You all but said it!"

"Both of you listen! This object may not be altering Joyce's mental perception, but an altered mental perception does perceive Spike's-" he bent his head and whispered, "soul."

"Which means?"

"Something powerful is in Spike. And the Dagon repels whatever seeks it." He rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Great power is seeking great power. Whatever it is- it's older than language. Older than names. Be very, very careful from now on-"

"I was mega careful!" Buffy squeaked in protest.

"Be _extremely _careful. I don't know anything about 'what cannot be named'. I can't even look it up." He gave a wry smile.

"Do you think someone would know? Anyone?" Buffy rolled her hands anxiously together. "I mean, I'll go for the slay- but I kind of like to know what I'm after first."

"Give me a minute." Giles checked his watch. "Six thirty. Perfect. It'll be the wee hours over there."

"What are you-"

"Shh." Giles picked up the gallery phone and dialed.

"Over there? England?" Spike guessed.

"Even Watchers have night shifts sometimes." Giles waited for the ringing to give way to a voice.

It did. "Robson, speaking."

"You owe me six quid, or a favor." Giles answered smoothly.

"Rupert?"

"How are you, old boy?" Giles' face lifted slightly.

"Well, I'm short of cash at the moment, so what can I do for you?"

"I need you to run a search. Do a bit of digging. I can't find anything in any of my texts, and I know I'm not permitted to use the bounties of the Council, but-"

"But I am. What are you looking for?"

"Something called the Brotherhood of Guardians. An order of monks. Very small, very secret, is my best guess."

"I can't make any promises, but I'll do my best. When do you need to know by?"

"Oh... sometime last week." Giles sighed.

"That bad? Should we be alarmed?"

"Not yet. Not until you find out what these monks do- and find out just what they were the guardians of."

"I see."

"And please. Keep it between us?"

"You owe me a tenner."

"You owe me six, that means I'll owe you four, next time you're in California."

"Ha! Next time you're in London, more like."

Giles smiled. At least someone was doing something, something he couldn't. "Thanks, Robson. Give me a ring if you find anything."

* * *

Quentin Travers stopped listening in. He wasn't normally there so late, but that night he was glad he was. International business being what it is, a 9:00 AM conference call in Hong Kong meant a very late night, or early morning, in London. And who would call, from an outside, non-Council approved number, at this hour?

"Wilson." Travers asked his undersecretary to come into his office.

"Coffee, Sir?"

"No, more pressing, I'm afraid. But it can't be. It's absurd."

"What is, Sir?"

"What? Oh, nothing." Travers hedged. "Wilson. Has anyone found any unusual prophecies of late? Ready any strange portents?"

"Not that I'm aware, Sir. I could check."

"Don't do that." Travers shook his head quickly. Discreet enquiries were best. "No, Wilson, what I need is for you to find a way for me to get in touch with the General of the Byzantium."

Wilson dropped the coffee tray halfway to the ground, before catching it with his narrow, knocking knees. "Sir, those men do not take kindly to being disturbed."

"Don't teach your grandmother her business, boy." Travers said crossly. "But you're right. Hold off on contact. But find out how I can, if I need to."

"Yes, Sir." The man prepared to leave.

"Wilson, one more thing." Travers knew something big must be going on, but he didn't want to get the Council officially involved, not if Rupert and his tame Slayer could handle it. "Keep an eye on how Robson is doing with his search. In this case, I want Rupert Giles to be given whatever assistance he needs, whatever information we have- but I want to know about it first."

* * *

"He'll know something soon, I'm sure." Giles said with more confidence than he felt.

"In the meantime." Buffy looked at Spike. "Dinner and slaying?"

"I do love this woman." Spike grinned broadly. "Maybe we missed somethin', somethin' around the alleys near it, in the upper parts of the warehouse."

"I wish they hadn't died." Buffy murmured sympathetically. "Not just for the slay-worthy reasons of getting information. But because-"

"They were innocents." Giles understood, even without feeling the intense sympathy Buffy had for Spike in this case. He cleared his throat. "Listen to me. Anything that goes unnamed is usually an object of deep worship or great fear-

maybe both. Don't underestimate what we're dealing with, simply because the Dagon Sphere turned out to be a fairly benevolent object."

"We don't underestimate things." Buffy said firmly. And then, with her old high school flippancy, "Ooh, can we hit the mall after searching for glowy thingy clues?"

Giles groaned.

"I'm kidding! I'm kidding, Giles, look. Serious face." Buffy pulled on her chin, making her face seem longer and more serious.

Her eyes were so often haunted, tired these days. Spike made her smile and laugh- and be incorrigible. More so than before. "I don't know whether you're a bad influence on each other or not." Giles muttered with pretended exasperation as he marched toward the exit. "Do you actually need a ride?"

Spike and Buffy exchanged looks. "Nice night. Rain's holdin' off." Spike said to his other half.

"We'll be there soon." Buffy nodded to Giles as he locked the store.

"I'm making dinner. Full English fry up."

"Kidneys?" Spike's eyes lit up.

"Ooh, I hadn't thought of that." Giles sounded mildly excited.

Buffy sounded intensely nauseated. "Kidneys? Those aren't foods, those are organs!"

"Americans." Spike and Giles said as one.

Buffy tugged her swain away. "We'll be there soon_-ish_. Please stick to eggs and bacon."

* * *

Joyce woke up for the second time that day, yet confused. "Bacon? That's a breakfast smell. Did I sleep straight through?" She clutched around her side table, seeking her alarm clock.

"You're up." Giles' voice drifted through the open door of her room. "I'm making supper! Full English fry up. It's quick and easy and I haven't had time to prepare anything more fancy, I'm afraid."

"That's fine! I don't want anything heavier than toast!" Joyce sat up, and her stomach seemed to roll and lurch like the invisible waves she felt like she was riding.

"Oh, Darling, you've got to eat! What about scrambled eggs?" She was losing weight, paling each day. Giles resolutely shook his head, shook the thought from it.

"You sound like Spike. He tried to lure me into ordering pizza and watching soaps with him."

"A nice, tame idea, considering who made it." Giles chuckled. Then he realized that might not be the best reminder for an anxious woman, a nervous (with appropriate cause) mother. On the other hand, acting like Spike was a wonderful, chap, the soul of decency- key word soul... "Hrm. Eggs, my love?"

"I'll be down in a minute." Joyce called.

* * *

"Tell me about your day?" Giles cooked, she sat, watching him.

"I'd rather hear about yours. Is the gallery still standing?"

"Oh, just about." He teased. "Anya marshalled her troops nicely."

"I'm going in tomorrow after my appointment. I don't care what they say." Joyce made a premature decision.

"Are you sure?" Giles asked quickly. Too quickly perhaps.

"It _is_ my gallery." Joyce glared.

"I know that, I merely wondered if you were up for it. I don't want to risk your health."

"But you'll let a blood sucking demon invade my living room all day, and that's not something that concerns you?" She knew that was a low blow, against Spike, and Giles, but anger and fatigue made her speak rashly.

"Spike is harmless to humans. He couldn't hurt you. He wouldn't." Giles didn't want to lie to her. But he didn't want to have this discussion now either, about what changes he could see in Spike, once he realized what to look for.

"Spike might not bite, but he's not harmless." Joyce's eyes suddenly narrowed. "I thought he couldn't hit humans."

"He- doesn't." Giles hastily began laying plates, four of them.

"That's good, but I thought he_ couldn't_. He- Rupert, did you see him with Tara's father? Didn't he go after him?"

"Several of them did. I wanted to myself."

"So did I, but I wouldn't have suddenly bit his neck."

"Spike didn't." _This is all about to go very, very badly..._

Joyce rubbed her temples, one side achingly tender, far more than the other. "Rupert, I'm not sure I understand what you're saying. Are you saying you saw it, too? This isn't some trick of being literally brain damaged? Spike did go after Mr. Maclay, and _can _hurt humans. He couldn't before. That's what Buffy said."

Buffy said. He seized on it. "Buffy told you the truth. Spike had a chip put in his head, that curbs violent impulses against humans." All true. Because if he lied to her... His happy future vanished in a blink, visions or not. "It curbs it. It could physically disable him if he attempted to hurt someone, sending watts of electricity directly into his brain. It would kill a human." Joyce looked appalled. "I've never seen him hurt a human after the Initiative put a chip in him, not until Tara's father."

"So, why could he-"

"I believe that Spike would do what he had to. Human, demon- he wouldn't let someone hurt Buffy- or anyone she loves." Giles said, and as he spoke the words, he believed them.

She did too. And it was uncomfortable. "I know Buffy loves him. But I don't want her with someone who can turn into the Hulk and -"

He turned to her sharply, sliding fluidly into the chair across from her with a look of sudden intensity. "Joyce, listen to me. I know we don't like everything he is, but believe me, Spike isn't the only man who would undergo, or do, the unimaginable for the woman he loves. Don't say you don't want someone like that." _Because you don't know what I'm capable of. You don't know what I'll do when I have to do it. _

"You're different than he is."

"Of course I am. But we're not really so different in the way we love."

She was suddenly young again, and excited again, and there were thrills, and dangers- and odd security in something so passionate.

"Let him love her, let her love him. It is rare for a slayer to love anyone, rarer still to find someone perfectly able to give her what she needs. And- she doesn't even know. None of us can know, just what his true value is yet."

Heart racing, temple throbbing, and the pain oddly at bay. "I trust you, Rupert. If you say that it's a good thing-"

"It's a necessary thing. It's more than you know."

How had their hands slid across the table, how was he suddenly pulling her, or was she pulling him, until they met in the middle? Kissing, pawing, smothered in each other with heady sighing breaths.

"I know that I love you. More than you know."

"Something in common then." He whisked her up, carefully, but determinedly.

"Rupert!" She was in someone's arms, like a princess about to be carried from a tower. No one made her feel like that. No one. It wasn't fair it only happened when she was forty and faded.

"I've got you."

"But my-" Her hand went to her wig self-consciously.

"I get lost in you- not in what you look like. Your beauty is only a bonus." Words so comforting, said with nothing soothing in the tone. More like a simple heat.

Love had never been like this for her.

She wondered, as the stairs fell away, as the bedroom door shut behind them, if that was why she didn't understand Buffy, and what she was doing.

For a moment, she decided she didn't care.

* * *

They entered the house to the smell of burning bacon and blackened toast. "On fire, on fire, actual fire!" Buffy yelped and scrambled towards the kitchen where short, orange flames danced around a skillet.

"Smother it, don't put it in the sink!" Spike was right behind her, slamming a pot over top of the popping grease sparks.

"Oh my God! Where are they? What happened, what could-" Buffy broke off, coughing as she threw open a window to let the night air clear the hanging wisps of smoke.

Spike was alarmed as well, and he looked around frantically, reaching out with his senses- only to find them rapidly drawing back in.

"Ah. Slayer, dinner's ruined, let's get a burger." He turned off the stove and tried to pull her from the kitchen.

"What are you talking about? Dinner is ruined, but that doesn't matter! Where are-"

A sudden low, masculine chuckle, quite debauched actually, drifted down the stairs.

Things clicked.

"You wouldn't just leave, no, not you, the big hero." Spike grumbled.

"Oh. Oh, ick." Buffy stood frozen in the middle of the kitchen.

Spike took her hand and tugged her out the back door. "C'mon, Luv. Buy you a very late breakfast at the diner, if that's what you want."

"I don't think I can eat now." Buffy whimpered.

"Don't take it so hard. Love's the best medicine." Spike pointed out carelessly, actually quite pleased that the librarian didn't neglect his duties, including that "in sickness and in health" bit.

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Burning down the house isn't."

"Think we get good guy points for savin' their bacon?"

"Har har, Spike."

"Your mum's a nice lady, I'm glad she has a nice bloke. End of it." Spike took her hand more firmly.

Buffy followed, a pout forming on her face as she tried every mental block she could think of regarding the situation going on upstairs. "What happened to you being half afraid of my mother?"

"Oh, still am." He wrapped his arm across her shoulders and bent his head, cool lips to warm ear. "But today she told me somethin' very important."

"Mmm? What's that?" His skin on hers made her forget pretty much everything but him.

"That I make you light up. We both glow, from the inside out."

She laid her head on his shoulder. "That's true."

"Everyone deserves that."

"Agreed."

They walked forward in the deepening darkness, shadows lengthening as street lights came on, and minutes passed in silence.

"Burgers or breakfast?" Spike asked finally, cheek to her hair.

"Hmm. You know- I don't really care. As long as we're together."

"Always, Baby. Always."

* * *

A figure slid from the shadows of the park they were passing, unmoving, staring after them until they turned the corner.

"The slayer and the vampire? Always together? Now, isn't that strange."

* * *

_To be continued..._


	26. Part XXV

** Unknown **

**By Sweetprincipale**

_This is set in my non-canon, but canon-esque series following Uncontrollable and Unmentionable. If you haven't read those first, please do, or this won't read nearly as well or make much sense. Unknown begins a few weeks after the end of Unmentionable, around the beginning of season five._

_Author's Note: While this chapter picks up directly from the end of the last, I have moved my time frame around. Example: If you recall, Harmony was gone before the beginning of Uncontrollable (in my canonesque playground). So, just go with the flow, it'll keep our Slayer and Spike together, and I know that's everyone's biggest wish._

_Author's Second Note: Voting is open at Sunnydale Memorial Awards. A bunch of my pieces, including this one, have been nominated. Go vote if you'd like to show some support for this story and the stories of so many other talented writers. Thank you._

_Author's Last Note: THANK YOU FOR THE PATIENCE! I know it's hard to wait when an author juggles three stories at once. I appreciate it, though._

_Dedicated to: Alexiarrose, CavemenFTW, skeezixx, ginar369, Sirius120, omslagspapper, Annamonk, Rachel, Jewel74, CailinRua, Alottalove, kerry220, jackiemack916, DidiSummers, and Mirandaannw._

_Direct Quotes are obviously not mine, but belong to the fabulously talented and creative people who wrote them. In this case, some of season five's dialogue will be used. _

_**Disclaimer: Nothing of Buffy belongs to me, except my sincere admiration. However, this story is all mine.**_

**Part XXV**

"You know what they should totally make?" Buffy whispered, peering around a darkened, grimy stairwell.

"What?" Spike whispered next to her.

"Black light detector thingies, but for demons and magic and stuff. I think they had one for ghosts. At least in _Ghostbusters_."

"They do make those. Called vampires." Spike inhaled. "Aside from humans, I'm gettin' nothin'. After effects of burnt bacon might be cloggin' me up a bit, but-"

"Spike. From now on- we do not mention bacon." Buffy turned to give him the full impact of her green eyes, almost all pupil in this blackness.

"Oh, c'mon, Luv, we-"

"No bacon." She whimpered.

"Alright. No bacon." He laughed huskily and inhaled again. "Clean. Nothin' in here. Nothin' magic. 'Cept for us."

"So what do we do? I hate having dead ends. _This_ is too important to have dead ends." Buffy gripped his hand as they turned and went back up the stairs.

"We can try the underground."

"The underground? There's some secret demon network of information that you haven't told me about?"

"No- there are tunnels. Underground. We can take 'em, see if we hit any nests, come up behind Willy's, go in an' interrogate a bit- then home in time for your mum to have recovered from her-"

"SPIKE!"

"Whatever they had for dinner, and she'll be happy to see you." He smiled softly, ran a hand through his hair, that almost bashful grin firmly plastered on his face. "She might even be happy to see me, too."

* * *

"Boy, am I happy to see you." Glory spread her hands eagerly, welcoming Jinx and a herd of other minions.

"Please- I don't know what you want. And I have a -a daughter to get home to." The man the minions were pushing forward gasped out, looking fearfully around him.

"Oh, you'll get home to her." Glory put her hands on either side of his face and nodded. "Which, believe me, is a good deal in this town."

"I don't have what you want-"

"Oh, sweetie... I know. But you _are _what I want." Glory sank her hands into his temples and let out a deep, satisfying moan as he let out a gurgling scream. It took just a minute, and then she flopped back, against the car, and fanned herself. "Mmmmm. I needed that. Okay. Let him go."

"Just let him...?" Jinx blinked worriedly and released the mumbling, rolling eyes victim reluctantly.

"Welcome to the Hellmouth, Baby." Glory raised her hands through the sunroof and sighed. "_Feel _the evil. This is the closest I've felt to being home since the cosmos chewed me up and spit me out."

"Can you- can you feel the Key? Does it resonate its mighty power within your-"

"No." Glory snapped at him, good mood suddenly gone. "Can you get fatso out of here?" She pointed huffily to the shambling man, looking around lost. Minions chased him away.

No one else was on the street. No one noticed. Tonight, tomorrow, when some completely addled, babbling, incoherent shell of a man turned up, no one besides his family would probably care. Welcome to the place where demons take their holidays, a place so used to the unusual they no longer saw anything strange. Vampires and demons lived here like exiled kings.

"Nope." Glory grinned, as if reading their minds. "No one around here sees anything. Why do you think so many demons and vamps are here? Why do you think they put a _slayer _here?" Her nostrils suddenly crinkled in disgust. "She's the problem. She's probably the only thing keeping the Hellmouth in check. Otherwise..." Glory gave an envious sigh. "This could really feel like home."

"Can you sense her, Mighty One?"

The disgust deepened. "No. Not yet. She's human, all human whatever she is. There's power inside her but it's a part of her stupid human shell now. The longer she's had it, the more she's used it- the more part of her it is. Dammit. They say this girl is really good."

"Not better than you, Glorificus." Jinx said loyally.

"_No one's_ better than me." Glory agreed offhandedly. "Wonder what makes her tick..." She licked her fingertips, as if sucking off the last tastes of precious energy she needed. "Maybe I'll find it... then I'll see if I can crush it."

Everyone chuckled gleefully. How nice to see their mistress so joyfully evil once again. Only one person, the most venerated priest, dared to look somber and spoil this moment. "You must focus on the Key. Finding that. Not tormenting the Slayer. When you rule this realm, you can rip all of these mortals to pieces."

Happy thoughts, so many happy thoughts. Glory felt refreshed. "True. Plus, if she knows what I'm doing, then she'll probably try to stop me. I might have to fight her. And that could take up, what? Five minutes of my valuable time?" The others laughed, like good little yes-men.

But Glory worried, even in the midst of her semi-contentment. The faster the year seemed to draw to a close, the faster her power waned. She'd need more to feed on, just to keep up a pretense of hell-godliness. Battling a Slayer- apparently one who was pretty damn good- would just sap up that strength. Key first, Slayer second, or not at all, not unless she was holding the Key somehow, shielding it, protecting it.

Her minions stared at her as she leaned on the gleaming metal of the car, eyes burning in thought. She snapped out of it. She smiled a large, vicious smile. "Let's go find my new house. Something... fabulous."

* * *

"This tops the not-so-awesome list of things I've done to my shoes." Buffy crossed over a fourth foul-smelling, sticking puddle.

"You want a piggy back ride, Slayer?" Spike sloshed through, thick boots used to this sort of abuse.

"Let's see- 'the Slayer busted up a bar for information, after arriving on piggy back'. No. Footwear must suffer in the name of being intimidating." Buffy sighed.

"We're trashin' the bar?" Spike's eyes lit up. "I haven't done any proper trashin' since Adam. We have to be careful though. My poker game meets there."

Buffy shook her head, realizing that would be the wrong approach. "We can't do that anyway. No one can find out why we're asking around."

"We already asked about monks, Slayer."

"Yeah, but then we killed everyone we asked. 'Cause they were vamps, mostly."

"True."

"So... what do we say?"

_That's a good question. How do you interrogate the denizens without dropping yourself in it? Askin' about secrets that have to be kept- well- secret._ "Could ask about unnamed evil brewing in town? What's the oldest evil you can name, or rather- can't name."

"Isn't that kind of a weird question to ask at the bar? I mean, if we don't want people to get suspicious and stuff?"

"Yeah... shop talk doesn't sit well at Willy's these days."

"We can ask them if anyone is going around having weird mental episodes."

"We're demons. Not to rain on your parade, Slayer, but I don't think 'weird mental episodes' look the same on demons as on humans."

"Well-"

"I mean, you drain one hippie at Woodstock and you're skippin' through pink meadows, staring at your hands as they turn into birds. Anyone who ate a frat boy after a kegger isn't gonna be a reliable source."

Buffy winced. "Point taken. And ew. And, I feel reeallly guilty about not patrolling more often after you say stuff like that."

"Hey, numbers of innocents turned into meals are way down, and you know it. A lot left after Adam was destroyed, a lot are chipped, and you offin' Dracula-"

"_Us_ getting rid of Dracula." Buffy corrected.

"-made any demon still in town seriously consider gettin' out. The ones left are either completely law-abidin', stupid, or as hardcore evil as they- yeah." Spike stopped at that thought, and hurriedly lit up.

"You were doing really good until you got to hardcore evil." Buffy sighed. "Well, let's keep trying to figure out our line. Hopefully we can start with the stupid ones first."

* * *

A young woman, frozen at eighteen, fixed a vampire with beseeching blue eyes and a rosebud mouth, half pouting as she demanded, "Are you sure he had bleach blonde hair and a long black leather coat? Not some big, brown haired guy who looked really hot in a broody way? B-Because she had a vampire boyfriend before. I kinda sorta know him. Not like we hooked up or anything, but-"

"Not brown. Not that big either. Platinum blonde."

"And it was definitely a vamp?"

"Hey, I might only have been turned a couple months ago, but I can tell if someone's a vamp. He smelled like one of us, and no heartbeat. Dead give away. It was a bleach blonde dude with an English accent and a sweet coat. Kind of old school, but sweet. And when I saw the Slayer hanging out with one of us, I figured you'd want to-"

A horrified, hiccuping gasp burst out before another shaky sounding question, "It _is_ him! _ Damn _him! A-are you sure it was the Slayer? It could have been any human girl. He might've been hunting or- oh no wait, he's chipped." Pouty lips trembled.

"Yeah, it's the Slayer. We went to high school together."

"Really? You were in our class?" Puzzled blue eyes blinked from behind a mass of tissues.

"Forget who was in our class, is this that stupid British guy, 'Spike', you shacked up with?"

Harmony nodded, somewhat guiltily.

"I thought you and this dude broke up. I thought _I_ was your big daddy now?" A beefy, possible once-handsome vampire protested, interrupting the smaller one in their "pack".

"Oh Bradley-kins! He's ancient history. Like, practically last season. This just- it really hurts, okay, Brad?" Harmony's lower lip wobbled again. "I mean, yes, we had time apart, and we've both moved on- okay, so he just stopped speaking to me and kicked me out, and then I moved to LA for a little while..." The tear filled blue eyes suddenly went dark yellow, and her entire face went hard, "But his rebound girl is the _Slayer_? _Buffy_?" The pretty but vacant face was back in place. "I already told Spike to kill her and her nerd friends for me, like, _months_ ago. He never listened to me. He didn't respect my opinion. I think a lot of our problems stemmed from that."

"Are we going to eat anyone or not?" A third, and up until now silent, follower demanded. "When we joined you, you said you had 'ins' on the Hellmouth."

"Do you know how hard it is to work in the same environment as your ex?" Harmony screeched and threw a pink, glittering bracelet at him as she tore it from her wrist in frustration.

Brad, current boyfriend, spoke up, considering himself the most informed about the "ex". "So we kill him. You said he wasn't able to hunt anymore, so-"

"Hunt _humans_, he can still kick _your_ lame asses." Harmony spat. Then covered her mouth. "Oh my God. I'm like, totally upset right now, and I didn't mean to say that. Your asses are not lame. You're just learning, and it's my job, as team leader, to motivate you." Muffled groans came from all four of her less than devoted followers. "Or I can just kill you right now." Groans ceased abruptly. Harmony gave them a glistening smile. "Oh, guys. I'm sorry. Totally can't stand ex-drama. But..." Harmony vamped once again. "We do get to accomplish two goals in one super-fun task. We're going to get revenge on Spike for never appreciating me, and for ending things with me in the lamest way possible- he never even said 'we have to talk', and then for picking a totally uncool- and skinny- bitch, when he could have had _me_." Harmony preened for a minute, hands skimming over her hips, distracted by tossing her perfect blonde mane.

"Uh... that's only one goal." Cyrus, the smallest vampire and the original informant mentioned hesitantly.

"Oh yeah. And the other part is we're going to kill the Slayer. We can't rule this town with her in the way. Plus, she always acted like I was dumb. And she's flirting and skanking around with my platinum baby."

"Hey!" Brad shouted.

"Ex-baby." Harmony corrected contritely to the new boyfriend she'd made for herself.

"I don't think they were just 'flirting'. I heard him say that they'd always be together."

Harmony made a whimper and clutched her ample chest above her heart.

"Insensitive much?" Peaches, the only other female member of their little band slugged his arm.

"Well... good. I'm so going to kill his new girlfriend." Harmony said with an effort. No one seemed thrilled. She rolled her eyes. "And then we'll rule this town and drink the blood of innocents and terrorize people and stuff." She concluded with pseudo-perkiness.

"That's what I'm talking about!"

"Woo!"

"Can we start now?"

Harmony shook her head, swallowing. "No. No, we need a really good plan. Slayers are kinda hard to kill." Internally, Harmony was nervous. Outwardly, she tried to look confident. "Not that _we'll _have a hard time killing her. If we focus, and work as a team..." She trailed off, unable to ignore the doubtful looks she was receiving. "Guys! This is like- really major for me. Buffy's my nemesis."

"She is?"

"Duh! I'm going to kill her, and she wants to kill me. That means she's my nemesis. And now she took my man..."

"_Hey_!" Brad cried again, more exasperated sounding.

"Ex-man. Whatever." Harmony did another hair toss. "We need to just stay low, and let me have a couple days to figure things out. You can go out and hunt. Bring me back something pretty."

* * *

"She likes unicorns. First really pretty statue of a unicorn I see, I'm gonna steal it for her."

"She meant a human, Brad. Bring back something pretty- from _hunting_." Peaches explained patiently.

"Oh. I'm still gonna get her a unicorn. She likes them."

"Dude. You are so Sire-whipped."

* * *

"Are you sure this is the best tactic?"

"Least threatenin'. Least likely to expose anything we don't want exposed." Spike held the door open for her, and then hastily dropped it. He and the Slayer might be a couple, but no one was supposed to know just how lovey-dovey they were. More like members of a long-standing truce who may or may not shag. Comrades with benefits at the most, at least to the unobservant.

Buffy caught the door with her shoulder and a huff, and they went into character. A swish of leather, a cold, sneering nod at regulars, lighting up and blowing a blue-gray wisp before extending a cool "Evenin' all.", which was really not meant for anyone but a few poker pals and the timorous barkeep.

Her act was different. Eyes on the move, shoulders back, angry, demanding strides, straight to the bar, and then in Willy's face.

"Hiya, Slayer." Willy nervously polished a glass on his apron, then dropped his voice. "Look, I don't know if you know this, but my bar is about to go under. See, so many demons left town over the summer, and-"

"I'm sorry, do I look like I'm here to talk about your business?" Buffy blinked and put on her best "I'm pretty, but don't underestimate me" face.

"I'm just asking you don't hassle the regulars. Half of 'em are catch an' release from those army boys. They _gotta _come in here to eat. An' hey, they're not snackin' on locals, so you wanna keep me around, right? Am I right?"

"Are you botherin' the lady, Willy?" Spike seated himself on the stool beside Buffy. "Slayer." He nodded casually to her.

"Spike." She replied evenly.

"Didn't you two come in together?" Willy looked between them, confused.

"Happened to be covering the same area." Spike lied easily.

"You have a problem with us hanging out together?" Buffy's smile was sweetly fixed, and her voice dared him to express a negative opinion.

"I- uh- I..." Willy knew when he was beat, and they hadn't even begun. "What do you want?" He sighed and began setting up a pint of blood and a whiskey chaser. "Slayer? You drinkin'?"

Buffy looked at the rows of bottles behind him. All the alcohol that fried her brain, plus hideous shades of fluid in ornate bottles labeled "Bile" and other gross stuff. "Uh. No." She swallowed firmly.

"We didn't pop in for anything special." Spike slowly sipped his blood, fangs easing down. "Mm. Good blend. Primate?"

"Orangoutang and pork."

"Not bad." Spike continued to drink, and Buffy knew that it was her turn to speak.

"We just like to check in. You know. Summer was quiet. This fall has been pretty quiet. Except for the Dracula thing, that was weird. If he was supposed to be this year's 'Big Bad', he failed miserably."

"Ponce." Spike muttered into his mug.

"I thought you liked quiet." Willy looked between them.

"I_ love_ quiet." Buffy said fervently.

"Hate it." Spike shrugged.

"But I don't trust it." _Because it's not real. There are three dead monks, a freebie soul, and a big ball of mojo older than fire and water to figure out. Quiet to the rest of the town, but so noisy inside my head... _"Every time the little evils get quiet, it means the big evil is on its way."

"Anyone interestin' come into town lately?" Spike asked.

Willy shook his head. "Haven't seen anyone. People come an' go all the time, but doesn't mean they come here."

"You hear things." Buffy reminded him sharply.

"I swear on my grandma's grave-"

"If granny's alive and you're not bein' strictly truthful, I'm gonna feel honor bound to put her in the ground." Spike interrupted with a nasty grin.

Willy gulped. "Look, I swear on my liquor license, I ain't heard anyone mention anything about some big baddie, or anyone new in town."

Buffy and Spike exchanged a glance. Another dead end. So many of them.

Willy hesitated. "Did hear about some people leaving town."

Buffy's head cocked curiously, and Spike's eyelids drooped to a half-asleep stare. "How's that then?" Spike asked.

"There were a couple demon families around here the last couple years. Ugly, no mouths- you'd think they wouldn't be good customers for a bar, but they-"

"The point, Willy, the _point_." Spike flicked ash into his now empty, scarlet-stained glass.

"Wait, no mouths? The telepathic guys? Ugly as ugly gets and really bad scaly skin?" Buffy sat up straighter, suddenly alert and interested, and not hiding it. Under the bar counter, Spike kicked her shin.

"Mind-readers, yeah, that's them. Anyway, outta nowhere, picked up, left their slime pits this morning and blew off to Mexico. That's what their neighbors said. Left a huge tab, too." Willy glared pointedly at Buffy. "You're hurtin' the small business owners here, kid. Scarin' off honest, payin' customers."

"I didn't. I didn't even know they were still around, I killed one a few years ago and Angel killed the other."

"That's usually enough to make people leave town." Spike muttered.

"See? You're bad for business." Willy scolded. In the seat beside the blonde, the vampire let out a low, almost imperceptible rumble, eyes shining threateningly at the barkeep. "But uh... yeah. You got your reasons. Killin' humans and stuff."

"They don't kill humans, they just infect them... they drive them insane." Buffy rubbed her head with an aching memory.

Spike's eyes flickered worriedly at her. "Affect the mind do they?"

"Not unless you get their blood on you." Buffy hastily clarified.

"I don't know all about that, I just know something must've made 'em decide to pack up and take off overnight. With a triple figure bill unpaid..."

Buffy abruptly slid off her bar stool.

"Lady says thanks." Spike bolted down his chaser and left a crumpled five on the bar, and followed the girl towards the exit.

"You know it's bad when I'm the one coverin' for your manners." Spike murmured behind her, a hint of amusement in his voice as they stepped out into the inky fall evening.

"I didn't want to talk in there."

"I don't think it's safe to talk anywhere round these parts." Spike slid an arm across her back and swiftly propelled her away from the trash-strewn alley.

She nodded, and the two instinctively began to walk with a gait only they could pull off, quick as jogging, smooth as gliding. Buffy looked uneasily over her shoulder. "Let's get out of here."

* * *

They waited until they were safely in the well-lit, residential section of town, a block or two from Buffy's house before they slowed their pace and began to speak in airless whispers so soft only supersensitive ears could hear.

"It leads back to minds. Thoughts. Brain tumors, meds that make you loopy, telepathic demons, magical spheres that repel things you can't even name..."

"Ancient, before speaking. Just knowing." He agreed. "If those demons left town en masse, and we know they've been doin' a good job of layin' low and keepin' out of trouble if you didn't spot 'em in the last two years-"

"Then why would they leave? I'm clearly not a threat, and they clearly weren't a threat, either."

"Nothin' scarier than you, Luv." Spike smiled, even under his worried eyes. She gave him a fleeting, grateful grin in return.

"Something drove them off. Something new in town."

"Or maybe something that's _comin'_ to town." Spike tossed his lighter restlessly inside his pocket. "They might not have to see something arrive to know it's about to show up. Show up and change the game. Make things difficult for them."

"Like what?" Buffy asked after a pause. Inside her churning mind, she was trying to organize all her information.

_Willy says they got scared off, scared enough to leave overnight. After years of not bothering anyone, and staying totally off my radar. It's not me. It wasn't something they did. Or is it? It could be..._

"Like someone powerful and a bigger, scarier bad then them, comin' to town. Soon. Someone bad enough even the demons run. And if they can read minds, maybe they already knew."

"What would scare them, if they're not scared of Slayers? Or the Initiative- they stayed through that."

Spike thought. "Someone who can mess with minds...Maybe someone who would targets mental powers specifically."

_Mental powers? Like being able to see a soul inside of a vampire?_ Buffy swallowed. "Spike, I don't like this. I don't _get_ this."

"I know, Baby." He sighed.

Buffy rubbed both of her hands through her hair, tugging slightly. "I so do not need this right now. Not with Mom, and school, and- there's still the "everyday ordinary" slaying and patrolling and training to do. And we already had a big research project remember? 'What is a Slayer?' 'Why is she supposed to end up a whacked out psycho-loner?'."

"And that fun new game, 'Who popped the shiny into Spike?'." He took her hands softly from her scalp and tugged her along the last street, her porch light shining in the distance, ready to welcome them to a late dinner. _Hopefully. _

"This is too much stuff at once." Buffy sounded choked. "I'm supposed to - Shouldn't I be focusing on taking care of my mom and her gallery? Maybe some dating stuff? A couple college classes on the back burners. God." Buffy swallowed and blinked at the clouds drifting lazily over the moon. "I don't mean to sound selfish right now, but I'm - I'm not supposed to handle all this at once. I could handle some of it..." She blinked again, swallowed more forcefully. _I don't get to breakdown. I'm a Slayer. I have to find stuff, fight stuff, kill stuff. No pity parties._

His hands tightened on her arm. "You don't sound selfish. You're a pretty damn unselfish person, Buffy Summers."

"Not really." Buffy laughed self-depreciatingly.

Spike growled softly and shook her wrist, pulling her close. "It is a lot. It's a bloody great lot, and none of it easy, and most of it shitty. But we're gonna get through it. If it helps- i thought tonight was a pretty good 'date'." He winked and she laughed. He stroked a hair away from her troubled eyes. "No matter what I say about those little pals of yours, they pull together. They also listen to you when you need somethin'."

"Oh, I know they do!" Buffy nodded hastily. "They're the best. And now there's you. More the best." She laid her head on his chest, and let his thick, heavy coat wrap around her, and his cool chin rest atop her hair. "Can I have a two minute pretend all this doesn't exist break?" Buffy let out a tired, sighing laugh.

"I'll give you three." He smiled, and held her tight, eyes scanning the street around them. _You Cosmic Jokers put a lot on her. She shifts the burden around, got good mates, got me- her literal mate, to help her carry it, but when it comes down to it... she still takes it all on those pretty little shoulders. _

"Sometimes when I stop and think about what you do, an' who you are," Spike told the shadows surrounding the embracing pair, "I love you even more. Didn't think that could happen, Heart."

_I don't know anything, and I'm a mess, and I almost had a breakdown in front of him. And then he loves me _more_? _

The world stopped being so scary and confusing. Good things still happened in it. She'd find a way to keep it spinning, giving birth to more good moments, more unexpected bursts of light in the darkness.

"I love you more, too." She beamed up at him suddenly. "C'mon. Let's go."

* * *

They had a pleasant, if somewhat stilted dinner of heated up leftovers. No one mentioned why dinner had been delayed, or the persistent smoked to a crisp bacon smell staying in the air.

"I'm going back to bed. I don't know why I feel so much more tired." Joyce smiled wanly, and kissed Giles on the lips, lightly, Buffy on the cheek, softly, and then drew up with a bump as Spike rose from his chair like the gentleman he'd once been.

"Goodnight, Joyce." He inclined his head to her.

She took his hand, clasping it, a puzzled look on her face. "You're not cold at all."

"No. Not right now." Spike looked surprised but pleased at her gesture.

_She makes him glow. She's his flame. He won't leave her... And I... I'm so tired. I want someone to stay, if I have to leave._ "Thank you for everything today." She kissed the winter white cheek quickly, before she could change her mind. "Goodnight."

* * *

Joyce went to bed, they talked about what clues and speculations they had developed with the Watcher. Giles eventually went upstairs, no longer bashful, although definitely discreet, donning a dressing gown before knocking gently on the door and vanishing inside.

Once there, he settled down beside her, watched her sleep. He prayed a hundred, jumbled prayers for her health and a happy future. Their happy future. One he had believed in so strongly, that had given him so much hope. He was unable to keep tears from seeping from shuttered eyes as he listened to her tortured mumbling in her sleep...

_I know it's real. I know it _will_ be real._ "Sweet dreams, my darling." He kissed her aching, bruised temple and rested his arm across her side.

* * *

Buffy hadn't wanted to leave the coziness, and Spike couldn't blame her. They went up together as well, not speaking anymore, keeping quiet, and making slow, steady love, some cross between pleasure and comfort, until she fell asleep.

He sat up in bed, in her bed. She rolled beside him, soft naked body wrapped in sleep, warming him.

He never slept. Just sat. Hand to his cheek. Other hand resting on the bed beside this woman, this perfectly unexpected, unplanned half of his heart and his world.

"I'll be back in a bit, Baby. You dream of me?" He slowly moved from his place alongside her.

"Hmm?" Buffy rolled sleepily.

"Goin' out for a minute. Be right back."

* * *

"Spike? Back for more? I just did last call."

It was nearly four. Last call for a demon bar, making sure everyone finished their drinks and had time to stagger home before daybreak and the appearance of the more observant early rising humans.

"I don't want a drink. Lemme help." Spike took a crate of empties from Willy with one hand, and then easily took a second and third, stacked them all up and held it in one palm.

Willy was reminded how strong Spike was, and even if he was chipped, that he had hit him once before, not too long ago, and with that strength... The pasty proprietor's gulp was audible. "Gee. Uh. Thanks."

"My pleasure." Spike's voice was slick and dangerous, indicating that it clearly wasn't so much a pleasure as to help, as a pleasure to scare the crap out of the human in front of him.

"Yeah. So. Th-those go outside the front door. Truck'll be here in an hour to pick 'em up."

"Come with me and hold the door, would you, Will?"

Every human instinct in the man screamed no. Except that you couldn't say no to Spike when he looked at you like that, when his words wrapped around you and tightened into a noose. "Sure thing." Willy's voice squeaked out. "Not for too long though, I gotta keep an eye on this-"

"Hardly more'n a minute to put out some bottles." Spike snorted and strode ahead.

Willy relaxed marginally. Guy didn't act threatening. Not now.

That changed once they were outside.

Spike dropped the crates with a crash, and yanked Willy forward, the door of the bar slamming shut heavily behind him.

"Hey! Look, I don't want no trouble, I-"

"Shhhh. Shhh, just listen." Spike pressed him to the brink wall amidst the broken glass at their feet. "Sorry to be so dramatic, but I've got a message and I want to make sure you understand it. Are you listening?"

Willy tried to say yes, but his vocal cords suddenly refused to cooperate. He nodded instead.

"I don't know who is comin' to town, but I think someone is. Soon. Maybe they're already here, just layin' low. Dunno. Don't care. Thing is, soon someone might come around lookin' for information. About who the Slayer is... who her friends are... you're the chief rat around here-"

"I provide a valuable service!" Willy gasped out in a terrified, yet offended whisper.

"That you do. An' you'll keep doin' it. But not. About. _Her_."

"Not about her, okay, okay!"

"And you don't say I asked you to."

"Right, I don't say anything. About the Slayer. Or you."

"And you hear anyone in the bar talkin' about it-"

"I'll break it up, Spike, I can handle my joint, you know that." He laughed nervously.

"Appreciate it." Spike was suddenly all smiles, and patting him on the shoulder, dusting brick grit off his shirt.

Willy hesitated to ask, but did. "You and the Slayer... you put aside your differences for now?"

"Better to be with her than against her." Spike told the truth with a shrug, just left out the layer upon layer of reasons why he knew that. "She's not a bad sort."

_She's an amazing sort, once in a lifetime, deathtime sort. To see her scared, to see her overwhelmed- it twists whatever's in me, heart, soul, hell, maybe even the demon doesn't like it, but it makes me know I love her. More than I loved. _

_ And now there's Joyce._ His knuckles brushed across he memory of the kiss on his cheek as if wiping a spot of soot off his face. How like another, a century ago, same gentle strength- _It won't end the same way. I got two to protect. I got more than two, the rest- hell, the rest of can come along for the ride,_

"Nah, Slayer's nice enough, if you don't cross her. I don't like what she does to my trade, but... she sure inspires some kinda loyalty."

"That she does." _She is loyal to the death, that one. Broken hearted and bleeding, she wouldn't betray you. I think I protect her sometimes, but she's the one who protects me. Like those monks and the cheese man said, we protect each other, some ever-spinnin' circle. _Memories of an ashen face girl holding a gun to the back of Finn's head when he was pinned underneath. Pushing her away as the ground swallowed him up. _Not just on the field. We're good at the fight. It's the rest of it. Taking my secrets, keeping them from her friends, from her family even, blindly following me into the dark- because she loves me. No one hurts her. _

He recalled afresh her often saying those same words, about him. Finn wouldn't hurt him, Adam, the unknown foes... _No one hurts us..._

"Any new nasty in town- you tell me. You tell me first, and then I'll tell her." Spike changed moods yet again, back to lethally "persuasive".

"You got it." Willy agreed, nodding so hard his head smacked the wall behind him. "I swear."

"Thanks." Spike turned- and then lunged.

Willy let out a soft, tiny shriek, sounding like it came from the back of his nose.

"You may get a better offer- someone telling you they'll pay top dollar for information, or they'll bust your face if you don't talk. You may think she's bad for business. I don't care what anyone else says. I don't care what they do." Spike, his own face inches away from Willy's, reached down into his duster, and Willy heard a sharp metallic click and hiss.

"Spike-"

"If you screw us, Willy..." One boot toppled a crate of whiskey and beer bottles as his free hand slowly lifted the blazing lighter to almost touch his cheek.

"I won't. Ain't vampires flammable? You don't want no open flames near those bottles, Spike."

"You screw us, and I will burn this place to the ground." Lighter descended, Willy sucked in a frantic, whimpering breath.

Spike's soul, something pure, coiled and writhed unpleasantly inside him, but he forced out his next words, with a little help from the demon inside. "And you'll be in that building when it goes up in flames."

When the bartender fainted, Spike took that as a sure sign that he agreed to the plan. He let out a shaking sigh, and looked around. Still no one else in sight. He propped Willy up on the steps and patted his head with a whisper, "You take care of her, an' I'll take care of you."

He walked off into the fading night, whistling.

* * *

"I missed you." Buffy sleepily informed him when he returned.

"Sorry, Baby."

"Where'd you go."

"You won't like it."

"Was it bad?"

"A little bit."

Even with her eyes closed, Buffy's face became more interested, brows knitting together, soft half-formed frown marring her lips. "Anyone hurt?"

"Nope. Scared, maybe, but for his own good. In the long run."

"Oh. That's okay, then."

"A man has to try." Spike slid in between the sheets, chest to her back, her head coming to rest on his collarbone.

Mother's face changing, Drusilla's face retreating, and Buffy's face- Buffy's face remained clear as the others grew hazy. Desperate eyes, serious lips, speaking to him. He could make out the shape of her silent words._ I love you. _

"A man has to try, has to do whatever he can, whatever he must to protect the woman he loves." _Who loves him._

They held each other a little tighter, and let sleep reclaim them.

* * *

_To be continued..._


	27. Part XXVI

** Unknown **

**By Sweetprincipale**

_This is set in my non-canon, but canon-esque series following Uncontrollable and Unmentionable. If you haven't read those first, please do, or this won't read nearly as well or make much sense. Unknown begins a few weeks after the end of Unmentionable, around the beginning of season five._

_Author's Note: In this chapter Giles has some "flash forwards/ flashbacks" (depending on your take on what it means to have previously seen the future). If you're confused, may I refer you to the last several chapters of Unmentionable, where Giles briefly describes what he is describing in more detail here._

_Author's Second Note: Voting is open at Sunnydale Memorial Awards. A bunch of my pieces, including this one, have been nominated. Go vote if you'd like to show some support for this story and the stories of so many other talented writers. Thank you._

_Dedicated to: Alexiarrose, CavemenFTW, skeezixx, ginar369, Sirius120, omslagspapper, Annamonk, Jewel74, CailinRua, Alottalove, kerry220, jackiemack916, and DidiSummers. _

_Direct Quotes are obviously not mine, but belong to the fabulously talented and creative people who wrote them. In this case, some of season five's dialogue will be used. _

_**Disclaimer: Nothing of Buffy belongs to me, except my sincere admiration. However, this story is all mine.**_

**Part XXVI**

_Sunnydale Hospital_

_Business Offices, Personnel Department_

"Your credentials certainly seem impeccable. But your work experience-"

"I've been volunteering wherever I see a clinic that needs help. My family's been traveling this year, and this is the first time we've settled down. But- uh- we're not going anywhere. My sister really thinks this place is what she needs." A hard swallow, and almost shy, half-desperate eyes met the personnel director's. "I just want to help people. Seriously, I don't even care if you pay me- just give me vouchers for the cafeteria." Ben laughed with a sad little shake of his head. "I actually like hospital food. Give me a chance. I'll work day shifts, sunrise to sundown, you never even-"

"Whoa, whoa, young man. Don't oversell." But the balding man looked over his horn rims with a smile. "When can you start?"

Ben smiled in relief and practically shook the man's hand clear from its wrist. "Thank you! Thank you, I can start now. Today."

* * *

_Emergency Room, Admissions Desk_

"Please, I think he's had a stroke. He didn't come home last night, and our neighbor found him wandering around downtown this morning when he went jogging. I think he knows who we are, but he- he's making no sense."

"All dark. All dark. Buzzing and scratching, buzzing and scratching." A portly middle-aged man tried to wander off down the hallway, but his silently crying teenaged daughter restrained him. He smiled at her for a moment as she guided him back to the desk.

"Daddy? Daddy, do you know - who I am?" She asked hopefully, thinking she saw something familiar in his glazed eyes.

He leaned on her shoulder for a minute, then turned wide vacant eyes to her. "Almost time. Almost time. Buzzing and scratching, on the other side of the door. Dark now, look for the light. Open the door..."

* * *

_Third Floor, Chemotherapy Treatment Room._

"You're dehydrated, Mrs. Summers."

"That's because I can't keep much of anything down." Joyce sighed as they hooked the IV into her arm. "Ow."

"I'm sorry. You know, depending on how you respond to the treatments, your doctor may offer you the option to try chemo from home with a two day pump. It's too early to tell yet, you need continuous monitoring at this point."

"Oh, then I'll ask him. I'd love to spend less time in the hospital." Joyce admitted and leaned back on the somewhat stiff pillow.

"It looks like that would mean you only have to come in twice a week." The nurse checked Joyce's chart. "And you could have a lower dosage with a more constant release of the drug."

"Hmm. I don't know about that. I like the break. Nice to have a day to recover in between." Joyce rolled her head, and used her free hand, not attached to a drip, to press her wig more firmly back onto her scalp.

"A lot depends on what you can do at home. How much you can handle yourself-"

Joyce gave a single, tired laugh. _Oh. Just about anything. Vampires. Teenagers. Teenagers _with_ vampires. Running my own business. Running my own business with the help of teenagers and vampires... _Joyce's laugh turned into a groan.

"Mrs. Summers?"

"Sorry, I haven't been sleeping well. I've been sleeping a lot, just not well." Joyce shrugged. "But you were saying?"

"Oh, yes. It depends on what you feel capable of handling on your own in terms of monitoring and administering the treatments. With the severe side effects you indicated on your check in form this morning... well, I think your doctor will probably want you to have some sort of support or care system in place."

Joyce didn't laugh this time, just smiled wryly. "Tell him to check the waiting room."

* * *

_Third floor, Waiting Area One_

"How long does it take to stick the needle in her arm? I stuck plenty of needles in people, it took me a couple seconds!" Anya paced and complained. Loudly. Heads turned.

"Weren't you usually taking vengeance?" Xander hissed.

"It doesn't matter! A needle is a needle, and I could have that sucker in some cheating bastard like that!" She snapped her fingers, and any people not already staring now joined in.

"She uh- she used to be a nurse." Xander reassured a horrified grandmotherly looking woman nearest him. "Buff, say something soothing. I beg you." Xander asked from the corner of his mouth to the woman sitting next to him.

"I'm with Anya." Buffy rose and paced as well, and the two women exchanged a startled look as they passed each other in pacing.

"Well. That's new." Xander looked between them, trying to keep his jaw off his chest.

"Does it usually take this long? It doesn't usually take this long, does it? Oh crap, I'm a bad daughter, I don't even know how long-"

"Is there a Ms. Summers out here?"

"Here!" Buffy flung her arm up, ala being called on in class.

"You can come back and sit with her now." The receptionist smiled.

"Coming!" Buffy all but sprinted, Anya close on her heels, Xander, trying to look like he wasn't quite that crazy, bringing up the rear.

"I like this better than radiation." Anya hissed. "You have to wait for the brain frying laser things to stop jumping around before they let you in."

"Can we please not mention fried brains?" Buffy grumbled. And then with a wince added, "Or bacon. No frying."

"I kinda like blunt and obvious." Xander decided out loud. "At least I usually get what's being talked about."

"Don't worry about it, here we - Mom!" Buffy's face changed from anxious to worry masked with a broad smile.

"Hi, Sweetie. Hi, you two." Joyce waved feebly at the trio.

"What took so long?" Anya took off her purse and swung it onto the floor with a thump, sitting beside Joyce.

"Discussing treatment options."

"New ones?" Buffy looked interested and worried.

"No, just new ways to give me the same drugs." Joyce explained. "Apparently I might need a supportive family to help me if I get treatments at home."

"Uhhhh- can you say 'got that covered'?" Xander gestured to all of them.

"I told them that." Joyce took the magazines Anya was holding out for her, and took Buffy's hand in her own. "I'm a lucky woman."

* * *

_Forty five minutes later..._

"Not that I don't love listening to this slam down on winter fashions, but-" Xander rose and handed back one of Anya's magazines, "I gotta bring home the-."

Buffy yelped.

"Paycheck." Xander gave her a strange look. Buffy blushed. "Hey, old school or not, it gives me a happy to think I'm helping put a roof over our heads." Xander frowned at Buffy, then smiled at Anya and kissed her shoulder as he stooped to say goodbye.

"Oh no- no, you can totally earn the - money." Buffy avoided her mother's eye, and Joyce suddenly became fascinated by an ad for floor length scarves. "Not sexist."

"It would be if he didn't let me work, too. But I do. And thanks to some of our pioneering efforts- and Joyce's amazing taste- I'm a contributing member of society, and the household."

"I couldn't do this without you." Joyce squeezed Anya's hand as her eyes closed. "Any of you. Good friends. Buffy's lucky."

"You're lucky. We're your friends, too!" Anya scooted up closer. She resisted the urge to tap on Joyce's eyelids. _Sickly, pale people shouldn't close their eyes for too long. At least not Joyce. Not Joyce, because then I wonder- if she'll just fall asleep and not wake up again..._

"I know. Lucky me." Joyce laughed, a resigned laugh. _So lucky to have them. And Buffy. And Rupert, my knight in shining silk ties... Why does it take cancer for me to realize how lucky I am? When I'm feeling the unluckiest? _

But she was never one to dwell on those things, just keep moving, strong and confident, for the sake of everyone around her. "Thank you for coming today, Xander. I'll see you at the store this evening?"

"Uh- yeah. I'll come by after work."

"Mom, are you sure-"

"I thought you had class, young lady?"

"I do. I have it - ooh. Really soon." Buffy glanced at the clock above the door.

"I'll take Joyce home." Anya said eagerly. "I can drive the Jeep. Xander, you can take my car."

"Anya, Sweetie, are you sure you-"

"She'll be fine." Joyce opened her eyes and smiled at her newest friend. "Anya can do anything she puts her mind to."

"Yeah, she can." Xander kissed his sweetheart again. "Okay. Buff, want a ride? I know you can probably outrun Anya's car- or even a car that's not ten years old, but-"

"What?" Buffy looked at him, as if hearing him for the first time. "Oh. A ride to campus. Sure. If it's not out of your way?"

"Nope, go right past it."

"Great." She said with false brightness, eyes lingering over her mother. _I'm glad she has Anya. I really am. That she gets along with her so well... _Little pangs of envy rose up. _I know she believes in me, too. I wish she'd have said it sooner after knowing I was an abnormal screw up. I mean, Anya's ex-demon, why does _that_ get a green light sooner than 'Hey, I save the world and I still look fashionable. Sometimes'. I'm being oversensitive..._

"So do you want to go now, or did you want me to start driving and you try to catch up?" Xander prodded as she still remained seated.

"Oh! Right. Now is good." Buffy hastily rose, kissed her mother, waved at Anya, and stumbled less than gracefully after Xander. "I'll be home right after- or should I go to the gallery? Never mind, I'll call both and see where you -oof!" _Backing away while talking was probably not a good idea._

"And she can hitting a moving bad guy at a hundred feet with one good throw, ladies and gentlemen." Xander helped Buffy untangle herself from the legs of a plastic chair and a privacy curtain.

"Don't pick on my baby." Joyce warned. "Don't worry about anything but your class, Sweetie. I'm in good hands."

"I know." Buffy smiled warmly at Anya, genuinely grateful. "I know you are." She became brisk with an effort, "Right. Gotta go and slay some note taking and slide shows! See you soon."

"Bye, Xander. Bye, Buffy."

* * *

"So... Buff. Spacing out much?" Xander unlocked Anya's car and looked across the roof at the petite blonde.

"Was I obvious?"

"To the outsider- well, yeah, even then. You went into Buffy's happy place."

"Not so much with the happy." Buffy sighed and sat down. "Anya's really awesome."

"I so knew that already." He laughed. "Hey, I feel smart." He pulled a pretend frown. "It's unnatural."

"Stop." Buffy swatted his arm. "No, I meant, Anya is awesome at being there for Mom. With the magazines, and the muffins, and running the store like she has a degree in money making. Hey, does she have-"

"She killed a lot of Wall Street wizards-slash-cheaters. Maybe something rubbed off." Xander winced. Buffy winced back. "Did you ever think we could bond over the murderous pasts of our exes?"

"Did _not_ see that happening." Buffy admitted. They shared a smile.

"You want Anya to back off?"

"No! God, _no_, no way!" Buffy said emphatically. "I just wish I could be more like her. Always there and knowing just what to do. Mom deserves that."

"Buffy, no one _always_ knows just what to do. You obviously took a blow to the head last night, or something, because if you think Anya always handles things well... Let's rewind and we can do a list of the fifty most inappropriate things she's said in, let's see- the last month?"

Buffy laughed, letting some of her cares go. "I missed you. Hanging out with you in a non-research-y way. You rock the friend thing. And, um," she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, "you've been cool about Spike."

"He's important to you." Xander said evenly. _Important as in we don't die. So I'm okay with him. _

"Mega true." Buffy sighed.

"Why with the sighing?"_ Didn't I just say a good thing? _

"Everything." Buffy grinned tiredly at him. "No big. We'll deal. We always deal."

"Speaking of dealing, did you find out anything more about our little glowing friend?"

Buffy's eyes went huge, and her throat tightened. "Who?"

"Y'know. The ball! Dago-whatsit."

Breath returned. "Oh. Actually, yeah. A hunch, anyway."

"Hunches are better than nothing." Xander encouraged her to elaborate.

"We did some recon last night, and no new baddies reported, at least to Willy. So whatever this doohickey repels, or is supposed to protect us from, must not be here yet. But we think it's coming soon."

"Why? What's the word on the demonic grapevine?"

"Nothing specific, but -do you remember those demons who made me into psychic 'I can hear your thoughts' gal during senior year?"

"Ugly One and Ugly Two, I remember. Aspect of the demon, all that jazz."

"Well, Ugly One and Ugly Two had cousins or brothers or something, and they've been living quietly in Sunnydale all this time, running up a big tab at the Willy's-"

"They have no mouths. How do they-"

"I didn't want to ask." Buffy shuddered, and then plowed on. "But they left. Overnight, without paying their tab."

"They're demons. I don't think stiffing a bartender is the high point of their evilness career." Xander remarked sarcastically.

"It's apparently weird enough for Willy to mention it, to notice it."

"But demons leave town all the time. If this were a medieval kingdom, there would be one of those big arches over the gates to the city that said 'Turn back demons and vampires, for here be the Slayer."

"That's sweet. In a scary way." Buffy reached out and ruffled his hair. "These guys obviously weren't scared of me, though. Even though I killed one of their spawn or whatever before. They stayed through the Initiative, too, and Spike said if demons left town willingly, it was when Walsh was doing her slicing and dicing."

"Good point." Xander began to sound concerned. "But I don't get the tie in to our mystical bouncy ball."

_That's 'cause you have a tiny little handful of information, and I'm keeping a ton of stuff back_. Buffy bit her lip for a second before explaining, "The Dagon repels 'that which cannot be named'. And Tara was going on about how thought and mental energy and matter and stuff, all that older than old ways stuff, all that comes before words, before names."

"Right, with you."

"These demons don't speak, they communicate in thought only. They're using powers older than words."

"But they're not that thing 'which can't be named', 'cause they have a name! I forget what it was, but Giles made us look them up. Some genus of telepathic-thingy."

"_They_ have a name, but they're afraid of the thing that doesn't." Buffy looked out the window, wishing she could see clearly, if only for one moment, what all this was. "Whatever it is... it can screw your mind up, I guess. And if you're a demon in the mental powers class, maybe that's some kind of death sentence."

Buffy suddenly thumped her fist hard against the dash. "Damn. _Why_ can't I have a non cryptic Slayer dream with actual _facts_ and details?"

By this time they were turning into the campus area, and Xander found a spot along the street. "Hey. We'll figure it out. We'll decode. Scoobies of the world unite!" He comforted with a fist pump.

_You'd figure it out faster if you had all the facts. Am I putting them at risk more by not telling the guys everything, or would I just put them on the list of things standing between Spike and whatever the monks said to hide him from? _"I wish I could tell you everything." Buffy whispered.

"Tell me... tell me what?" His forehead creased as he darted a quick look at her.

"Some stuff that I haven't figured out how to say, or even if I _should_ say." Buffy swallowed and looked at him with suddenly watery eyes.

"Stuff like- dream stuff?" Xander's guilt throbbed suddenly, in sympathy with hers.

Momentarily still, Buffy nodded. Then waited for the pressure. "_C'mon, Buffy, you can tell us. Have you told Spike? Have you told Giles? Maybe we could help you..." And it's all totally true. _

_ It's also totally likely to get one of us killed. Most likely Spike, if someone knows what's really in him, and since he's the one the monks and their super shiny sphere were protecting. Since they're all connected. Which brings us back to the problem, the guys don't know that..._

The pressure never came. His arm slid around her shoulders. "It must not be time to tell yet. Or maybe it'll never be."

Relief, unexpected and oh so welcome, flooded through her, and her head rested in the hollow between shoulder and straining seatbelt. "How'd you know what to say?"

"I'm the big brother. I'm wise. You should look up to me, and buy me nice stuff at Christmas." He smiled, but his eyes remained serious. "You know, you don't even have to tell us why we're doing things sometimes. Just tell us what to do. Just tell us you need us, that you need us to help. We'll do it."

"I know. I know you would."

"If I ever did some weird stuff, or told you that you needed to do something crazy-" _Like hook up with Spike. Like never, ever let the little pointy tooth blonde bastard go, or somehow the world is full of dead friends and screaming women_, "you would go along with it. Because it's _me_. It's me and it's you, and it's all of s, and we trust each other. More than ever. We became one big blobby aura-being for a day. You can't trust people more than melting all your souls or powers or whatever into a gourd and then kicking some Franken-ass." They chuckled at the truth and absurdity of that statement. "We don't need to know everything, Buff. We just need to know what to do."

"Xan, that's really awesome, and- and how are you being so perfectly perceptive, Big brother-mine?" Her eyes narrowed in playful suspicion. "Wise or not, you sound like _you _have some telepathic mojo going on."

_Not exactly, but you're close._ "You're not the only one with strange dreams. They're connected. They're all connected. Like we are."

"They were right." Buffy smiled mistily at him. "You are the heart."

"Damn straight."

* * *

Xander didn't drive straight to the gallery after work. He doubted whether Anya would be there, and if Joyce needed to be at home, money-loving or not, Anya was probably there with her, ignoring the shop.

_ She's pretty awesome. She's also pretty. No, better than pretty, she's beautiful. That smile... _

He smiled, one moment out of a hectic day to appreciate the woman who really was _perfect_ for him. Someone who'd - unbelievably- never thought he was a loser. Who saw and heard exactly where he'd come from, including living in a basement, drunken parents arguing, being kinda pathetic in high school. Toss in having two girls as best friends, and deciding to go into a crazy dangerous part-time job he didn't get paid for, vampire slaying assistant. And speaking of jobs, how many part-time dead end ones had she watched him struggle through, until he finally found something he loved and was good at?

_Yeah. That's the girl I'm going to grow old with_. Xander smiled dreamily through the windshield, wrist propped loosely over the steering wheel, driving in a haze of happy thoughts. With one tiny niggling reminder chewing away at his moment of contentment.

_If we _get _to the growing old part._

The light turned red, and Xander sighed, sitting up, coming back to reality. _Home, shower, research or store help or slay help, or oh, I gotta get dinner. I wonder if she's eaten? I should call Wills, maybe we can do something together, if we can get their dinner break to match up with ours._ The light changed and he slowly eased on the gas- and then slammed on the brakes. Behind him, cars crashed to a halt, horns blaring and drivers cursing.

* * *

On the sidewalk on one side of the intersection, Giles whirled, and took a step back, almost bumping into the store front window. He saw a car swerve through traffic, make an illegal turn, and park crookedly a few yards from him. "Oh dear."

* * *

"Hey!" Xander slammed the car door shut after storming out of it, waved apologetically at people who were giving him the finger, and then hustled up to Giles, looking furtively around as he did so. "_Giles_!"

"Good evening, Xander."

"Uh. Hi. Aren't you standing in front of the wrong store?" Xander did a triple take between Giles and the building.

Both men turned to gaze at the gold letters on the window. _Edsel's Fine Jewelry and Gifts. _

"I was simply stretching my legs. Tara and Spike are minding the gallery. I'm on my way back there now, would you like to walk with me, or were you on your way home?"

"I was, and then I figured I'd see if Anya was at- Giles! Don't change the subject."

Giles groaned softly. "There is no subject to change."

"Really? I see one." Xander looked pointedly back in the window.

"We're selling jewelry now, artistic and estate pieces. I can look at our competitors."

"Really? We're going to start selling_ those_?" Xander gave him a dubious stare. A row of diamond rings and sets of wedding bands were displayed prominently on a swathe of shining midnight blue fabric.

Giles looked uncomfortable, but blustered on, "A person can glance at a store window." Which he had.

* * *

_Ten minutes ago..._

It was merely a casual glance, a tired man needing a breath of fresh air, strolling aimlessly around the block- and then he saw something that caught his eye and held it. The exact same box he knew so well, not from his waking world, but only a moment of moment in a dream of the future. A dark blue velvet box with a gilt _E_ on the satin lining, and the diamond that was resting against it. _This is the shop where I bought- where I _will _buy- damn tenses, Joyce's ring._

He'd paused, concentrating. Why couldn't he have more than mere flashes of some things? A hallway in some anonymous building that turned out to be where they had their first "date". A silk scarf that matched her hair, which turned out to be what she was wearing the first time they made love. A ring that replaced the fashion piece Joyce wore now, the ring he was meant to give her.

Giles had been so deep in thought that it took a cacophony of a near traffic accident to bring him back to the present. Enter Xander, and all the realities of what he was considering.

* * *

_Present..._

"You weren't glancing. You were staring. You were staring with your 'Hmm, this is gravely important face.' I know that face!" Xander accused.

"Rubbish. Buffy says I make that face when she doesn't put her training equipment back properly. It means nothing." He almost stammered.

"Now you're denying it." Xander smacked the older man's arm in a gesture of incredulity.

"I say!"

"Dude!"

"Now, really!" _This must've shaken him. I don't think I've ever been 'dude'. 'Librarian dude', perhaps, but-_ Giles lost his train of thought as he nearly lost his footing.

Xander seized Giles by his coat sleeve and hauled him, protesting and becoming stuffier and more British with every step, back into Anya's car.

"I'm a grown man! I'm middle aged!" _I let all my dreams, my personal ones, finding a woman I loved, then recovering after I lost her... Making a home, marriage, children... I let all that go, for duty. Now if duty bloody well drops a daughter in my lap, I'll take it, and if the mother of 'my child' happens to be someone strong but sweetly vulnerable, lost and wounded in this hard world, but still full of that hidden fire... I won't let my future be the same as my past. _"Xander, listen to me carefully."

"No. I mean, yes, I will, in a minute." Xander raked his dust streaked hair and clasped and unclasped his calloused hands. He was no good at lecturing, or even advising the big guy. The truly odd parent figure he'd come to adopt. Who knew nothing about football and everything about fencing, who wore tweed and cravats in contrast to his own lame tee shirts and mismatched socks. Xander felt it wasn't his place to speak, and yet- he cared too much not to.

"I know this is really hard, and I know you had a vision, or a message, or a dream, whatever, where Joyce is okay."

"While you had one that was the opposite." Giles whispered tensely. _Did he not tell me everything? Is there more? Or have I just been fooling myself, a deluded old man, for one last glorious summer, taking her into her final winter? _

"Right."

"Was there something more you wanted to tell me? A detail you neglected to mention? Do you know that you're right, and I'm wrong?" Hazel eyes, alert, watchful, almost dangerous, flickered behind lenses as Giles removed his glasses.

"No! Not at all, no way. I think you're totally right. Dead right. No! not dead- I- Crap. I'm not good at this." Xander shook his head. "Look, I think everything is going to be okay. I do, totally believe it. But, _Joyce_. What if, just- well... what if it isn't?" The gaze meeting his eyes never wavered, leaving him to conclude with a hesitant, lost, "Y' know?"

"Yes. I do know Xander. What do _you_ know?"

Xander leaned back. "Huh? I told you, I saw-"

"No, no. What do you _know_? What are you _sure of _?" Giles shook his head slightly.

"Nothing! I hope nothing I saw ever happens." _Everyone- over. Ended. Gone._

"Hope is such a glorious thing. But it isn't a guarantee. If nothing you saw comes to pass, and everything I saw does, this life will still end. All too soon. All too soon." Eyes became distant, clouded.

He was young. Pale and perfect, with a shade of auburn blonde that highlighted the blue of his eyes. His father's eyes. In his USC track jersey. How did he know it was track, was it intuition? How could he see in that one momentary glimpse a boy who ran with his parents' speed? So young and vibrant one moment. Then- a crash. Twisted metal. It was gone. One life, gone.

"Giles, please. I didn't mean to upset you. I'm only wigging because- G-Man, engagement rings? Now? You've been dating for a few months, and you're both-" _Grown ups? Too smart to rush into anything? That's so lame._ "You're both really important people in my life, and I don't want to see anyone get hurt."

"No one wants to see those things." Giles whispered. He'd seen them all. All the bad, all the good. The Watchers said it was a terrible burden, but a wonderful gift. They were right. Images of a beautiful girl, her face so young, still unlined, fire in her that betrayed her sadness. When was that fateful night, in her later forties, her early fifties? When he saw her still fighting like she was sixteen, she and her husband of many years, still side by side when... He swallowed hard.

_No matter the age, it's all too soon._ "It's all too soon."

"Yes! Yes, that's what I'm saying. Nothing is set in stone yet, right? So-"

Giles shook his head vehemently. "No. It's _over_ too soon. This _life_, Xander, that's what isn't set in stone. We're proof of that, two opposite futures hinging on God knows what, besides a vampire who fell in love with a Slayer. Talk about unforeseen circumstances. It's in the details, Xander, and I- I only have glimpses, some insignificant, some earth-shattering, but I can't piece them together. All I know is that no matter what vision you believe, if we have five minutes more, or fifty years more, this life is too short, and precious. Over all too soon."

Xander stared, startled by the sudden impassioned outpouring.

"Now," Giles cleared his throat, adjusted his collar, and placed his glasses firmly on the bridge of his nose, "if you'll excuse me, I have some rings to look at."

"Sure." Xander nodded, still semi-dumbstruck.

"Xander- one more thing." Giles paused before exiting the vehicle. "I- not that I'm unsure, it's simply that I-" he laughed, the realization striking him as he confessed, "I believe I'm -nervous." _Scared._ "About all this. Time is fleeting, but I'd still like to find the right moment to tell Joyce. Myself."

"I won't say anything. I don't know anything about this, never happened." Xander agreed warmly.

"Thank you." Giles nodded gratefully, and bowed himself from the car, leaving Xander sitting in the driver's seat, mind reeling.

It took several minutes for him to slowly reach down, re-start the car, and pull back onto the street. He cast another long, searching look at the figure on the sidewalk. A ramrod stiff, suited figure, who took everything in with collected, wisdom-filled eyes- who suddenly reached for the door of the jewelry store and flung it wide, entering in.

"You go, G-Man. Love makes you do the wacky." Xander smiled to himself and headed for home. Their home, not much, but it was all theirs. First place in the world he'd ever felt like he mattered, like he not only belonged, but it was "his".

_Only feels right if she's there with me. It's only "mine" if it's half "hers"._

The young man had a sudden burst of clarity as he turned at the intersection. _Hmm. Maybe it's not so wacky after all._

* * *

_To be continued..._


End file.
